


Damned With Me

by WriterChick



Category: NOT Lucifer TV Show, No Fandom, Original Work
Genre: Archangels, Casinos, Debauchery, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Fallen Angels, Fate & Destiny, Gritty, Guardian Angels, Heaven and Hell, Punished by god, Satan has a soulmate, Sick Jokes, Slap Slap Kiss, Soulmates, eternal damnation, goons - Freeform, jaded female lead, strong female lead, that doesn't want him
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-04
Updated: 2020-07-31
Packaged: 2020-07-31 10:55:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 75,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20113960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WriterChick/pseuds/WriterChick
Summary: Lucifer's got himself a soulmate--that wants nothing to do with him.





	1. Prologue

_ Long after Adam and Eve were cast out of Eden for sharing the forbidden apple of knowledge, Lucifer was summoned before God. He was to be sentenced for his crime against humanity, as if being exiled to hell was not sufficient enough. Man had bred many generations and populated several areas of Earth since he turned his flesh to scales and slithered into the garden. One would think that the statute of limitations would have pardoned him by then.  _

_ Unfortunately, God sees all and forgets nothing.  _

_ As God took his time deciding his penance, Lucifer cultivated his power in Hell, growing even greater from his hand in the original sin of man. Hell had been a dark frosty place devoid of life and God’s love, though now, a new fire to light the way and warm the masses was born every day through Lucifer’s will.  _

_ He could shape his form effortlessly then, and retain it for as long as he wished. Torturing his minions required little more effort than the snap of his fingers. Hell’s numbers had tripled with the introduction of his demons and the damned souls he had begun to collect. If God would throw his children away whenever they disappointed, Lucifer would accept them in from the cold and curl his wings around them as he bent their ear and gained their loyalty--or fear.  _

_ It was with such support and ambition that he answered God’s call, feeling confident that he was becoming more and more his maker’s match. Should the need ever arise to question.  _

_ God and his angels awaited Lucifer’s arrival on the edge of Heaven, where they had battled before the fall. Blood still stained the ground. It had been left there to remind all celestial beings of the steep cost of war, and warn of what happened when brothers rose arms against each other.  _

_ Lucifer closed his eyes, images of that day invading his thoughts. The first angel to die by his blade--Sariel, opened his mouth in a silent cry that would forever screech in his ears and score his insides. Lost in such visceral memory, Lucifer touched his cheek, truly feeling Sariel’s hot blood spray across his face all over again. That had been the real disgrace--not his pride, or his jealousy, or the fact that he had rebelled against God. Until that war, Lucifer had only ever used his hands for creation--never destruction. Seeing again how the light slowly faded from Sariel’s hazel eyes had him wishing he could claw his own heart out.  _

_ A glance to Gabriel and Michael had them quirking the corner of their mouths in satisfaction. They enjoyed the effect this place had on the fallen angel, and had no desire to hide it. Sneering back at them, Lucifer pushed the past from his mind, refusing to allow the trauma to impair him any further. He sent them a warning glare and flexed his great wings, taking pleasure of his own in their expressions of horror. Since leaving Heaven, Lucifer had turned his wings as black as coal. Signaling the fallen angels behind him, they too extended their jet-black wings for their brothers to see. If they were to be cast out into the darkness, then he would allow their appearance to remind God and his heavenly angels of that. He too could evoke a response. _

_ Michael hissed his disgust, and Gabriel averted his gaze in disappointment. It was God who laughed, entirely unfazed by the way in which his wayward son proudly vandalized the wings he had given him. Lucifer’s demons riled, uneasy--nervous creatures that they were. He hushed them and gave God a defiant flash of his eyes as he boldly commanded him to get on with his punishment, not appreciating how easily his tactic was dismissed. _

_ Lucifer had no intention of submitting to whatever God had in store. He only wanted to sate his curiosity, and secretly take advantage of being back in God’s presence--for however long. _

_ God said nothing, not feeding into provocation. He only reached for Lucifer’s hand and turned it over so that his smooth open palm was up. Sharp pain suddenly tore across his hand as a deep gash appeared. Biting the inside of his cheek, Lucifer focused all his energy on his hand. He had learned how to heal many wounds in Hell, though despite his efforts, this one would not.  _

_ As was God’s will.  _

_ God held a chalice under Lucifer’s hand to catch the blood that spilled. Lucifer stared at the small river of crimson that flowed fast and freely into the cup. Only when the cup was filled, did the steady stream slow to a stop of its own accord. Lucifer looked back at his hand to see the gash had vanished. He was completely healed.  _

_ Holding Lucifer’s blood in one hand, God summoned forth a human with the other. A woman who had not been there before, suddenly was, and it was as if she had always been. She wore rudimentary clothes made of various small animal hides and shivered in the center of the crowd. Lucifer wondered what she had been doing before God plucked her from her life for his own use. Hunting? Gathering? The way she trembled and fearfully looked around her told him it had been something simple, as she was still an early human learning and growing.  _

_ God looked into her dark brown eyes and soothed her worry, promising her safety and purpose. Dipping his fingers in Lucifer’s blood, he touched them to the woman’s forehead. Light glowed around her as the blood seeped into her skin. God turned to Lucifer and declared that since he had been so jealous of the humans, he would sentence him to suffer one as his soulmate.  _

_ Angels--fallen or not, did not have soulmates.  _

_ They were incapable of sharing their hearts with any other than God, let alone humans. _

_ This was an abomination. And the perfect punishment. _

_ Lucifer scowled at such a suggestion and then turned his gaze to the woman. Her eyes were changing, the color fading in one of them. A light blue, much like his own, took the iris over, leaving the other untouched. The mousy brown color of her long tangled hair took on a reddish hue that brightened until it blazed.  _

_ Though Lucifer found the human more attractive since his blood transformed her, he felt no compulsion to join with her and was only too pleased to laugh in his maker’s face and tell him so. Whether God had made a mistake or Lucifer had grown too powerful, did not matter--only that his plan had been thwarted.  _

_ It was then that God chose to enlighten his once-favored son. By sharing Lucifer’s blood with the human, he took a part of the soul he had gifted him with and shared it with the woman to pass down in the generations to come. She was not his mate, though she held a piece of him inside herself now.  _

_ Lucifer had been created to only have room in his heart for God, though with the addition of a soul, his heart too required the love of his mate. Now, he was not only cursed to loneliness at the loss of God, but also by the lack of his other half.  _

_ The human before him was but a vessel carrying the building materials necessary to create the only woman that could ever remedy this new loneliness in Lucifer. Because he had ripped the wool off of Adam and Eve’s eyes and thus separated them from God’s love, he was damned to have a love living in the world and never know her--never fill the new void God gave him. _

_ The crowd parted behind Lucifer and a hand came to rest on his shoulder. He need not look to know it was Lilith, the mother of his demons. Michael’s hackles rose and Gabriel’s attention turned entirely toward her, an unreadable expression settling on his face. She whispered encouragement in Lucifer’s ear, promising him that there was nothing a human could ever give him that she could not. _

_ Staring at the human before him, Lucifer considered her. Many generations of her line would come to have hair stained with the blood of his sins. Hidden amongst them, would be a woman of similar coloring that was meant entirely for him and only time would reveal her identity.  _

_ Lucifer cupped the woman’s dirty cheek and ran his thumb under her new blue eye. Her skin was rough and dry from the sun, and her mismatched eyes teared as she begged him not to take her to Hell and bed her.  _

_ Letting her go, he sneered that this was hardly a punishment. If eating the apple of knowledge was what spoiled God’s love for Adam and Eve, he would dine on no such fruit. He would bask in ignorance and never trouble himself to know this mate he had been burdened with. God’s determination to hide her from him only aided him. He had survived the absence of love all this time, and even grown stronger for it, so he paid little heed to the threat of a deeper hole in his heart. _

_ Michael reached for the woman, turning her away from him. A dozen angels stepped before her, gently shuffling her behind them until she was out of sight. God gave him one last heavy look before he cast him from Heaven again. _

_ A cold gust of wind had him staggering back a step and hugging himself. Staring at a pile of rocks until it combusted into a new fire to warm himself with, Lucifer ignored Lilith as she spoke in his ear and turned his back on his demons. The angels knew to give him a wide berth, knew that he would require time and space to recover from his encounter with God. _

_ It was when he was alone, staring at his own reflection that he discovered that he too had been transformed. The human had taken on the blue of his eyes, while he had taken on the brown of hers. Where she carried a piece of him, he carried a piece of a mate to come. That troubled him to no end. _

_ Enraged that he could not so easily escape God’s punishment, Lucifer locked himself away from his legion for six hundred and sixty-six nights. When he emerged, he vowed that he would find the woman and murder her before she could breed. _

_ When he opened a window into Earth to watch for her, she remained unseen to him. Determined to find her and end this possibility of a mate, Lucifer set foot on Earth’s soil. He was immediately met by Gabriel and Michael.  _

_ Michael demanded that he return to Hell, that Earth was a place for humans and that he was not welcome in it. Lucifer laughed, reminding him that he went wherever he wanted and was strong enough to do so. If God gave him a mate, and he decided he wanted her, then he was damn well going to have her. Even if this woman was not her, she was the key to killing her.  _

_ Gabriel looked almost sad as he said that the woman was under their protection and would carry out her purpose to populate. Lucifer would have a soulmate and all of Heaven’s angels would lay down their lives to ensure it if necessary.  _

_ Turning away from his brothers, Lucifer kept himself from testing that promise.  _

_ The archangels' shield lasted for thousands of years--long enough to create many descendants. They say that Lucifer looks for his love among them even now.  _


	2. Soulless Ginger

**Present Day**

Gabrielle Darby grimaced at the advertisements she scrolled through selling hard sex for fast cash. Nothing was free and easy, but trolling porn sites for men to blackmail came close--something she would not have to do if she was not piss-poor broke and needed to keep a roof over her head. She had a steady job that barely put a dent in her expenses, leaving her desperate at the end of the month to make it to the next. 

Tracking the trends for what was most appealing, she let her hair fall over her face and unbuttoned her blouse to snap a quick de-identified photo. Needing only a thumbnail to serve as bait, she cropped her nipples out. There was no reason to share her whole body on the world wide web, not when that little bit would be sufficient.

She hesitated for a moment, asking herself if she was really going to do this--again. 

Her phone vibrating with a _ Low Balance _ alert from her bank had her clicking, _ Upload _, without another second guess. Now all she needed was for some degenerate asshole with a wife and five kids to click on her pic and proceed to act perverted enough for the record. Then she would hit pay dirt.

God willing. 

It was just an expression. Gabby was not the religious type, despite all the proof she had seen that told her visiting a church on a regular basis was probably in her best interests. Was there really a Heavenly Father up above lingering around seeing everything? Yes. Should she pray to him? Most did. Did she love him? No. 

A great big HELL no. 

No pun intended. 

How could she possibly hold love in her heart for a God that gave her to the devil? What kind of all-loving, all-knowing deity did that to a girl? An asshole, that’s who, and Gabby wanted absolutely fucking nothing to do with the creep. 

In fact, the only person she wanted even less to do with, than God, was the devil she was promised to. Sure, he was gorgeous. Sure, he had been her first love. But he was Hellfire and she had already paid a price too steep for standing near that flame. 

Her laptop chimed with messages from: NeedTits88, B00By^^B00ty, FukN’Suk2.0, and DomDaddy4U. They all got right to the point, asking how much. When she did not reply right away B00By^^B00ty showered her with compliments--as if that was enough to get her to drop her skirt and snap another photo. 

A running commentary filled the box beside her picture. 

**FukMunky: ** ** _Nice tits_ **

**Tuna7own: ** ** _Looks hot_ **

**Squ1shyT1ts: ** ** _she do extra?_ **

**ChelseasDad: ** ** _This legit?_ **

Bingo.

A forty-something, carpooling, tube sock wearing, field hockey dad with a desperate case of the lonelys got the courage to sign up for an account--too stupid not to import his regular social media profile when he did. Gabby had seen it a thousand times--and benefited from it just as many. Quickly, she clicked on his name and typed, ** _100% Legit. PM?_ **

Within seconds he opened up a private message window and began sobbing all over his keyboard about his wife of sixteen years who only had sex with him on his birthday and Christmas. She fell asleep on their anniversary and when he tried to wake her up, she gave him a tongue lashing--not the good kind--for being so selfish and inconsiderate. 

Popping her gum, Gabby grabbed her energy drink and shook the can, hoping more delicious nectar was left. There wasn't. Which was unfortunate because listening to Paul (Chelsea’s dad’s name was Paul, something Gabby had learned in the first four minutes of their private messages) was putting her to sleep. No wonder his wife was keeping her cookie to herself. 

Gabby just needed to pull a couple more details out of him before she could turn the tables and take ChelseasDad for whatever he had in his savings. It was an awful thing to do, but one could argue that seeking companionship on online pornsites riddled with underage girls and sex trafficking pimps rather than grow the balls to ask his wife to go to counseling was just a notch away from awful too. A quick glance over to the box by her thumbnail read: 

**MAgNumXL:** **_Does carpet match drapes?_**

**masterspnkr:** ** _ See ur face?_ **

**69-24-7:** ** _ I’d cum on those tittys_ **

**PrincAlb3rt:** ** _ ginger snatch!_ **

**PrincAlb3rt: ** ** _soulless gingers r dirty fuks_ **

Gabby’s eyes bulged on that last line. Apparently having a pierced dick made you a prick. His comment should not have bothered her, and maybe if she had not been bullied so viciously as a child over her red tresses, it wouldn't. But it did. Even now, all these years later. 

Paul prattled on as Gabby's memory took her down a path she had no interest in traveling, but could not seem to avoid. She was eight years old when her parents sent her to Bible camp and while she was not the youngest there, the majority of the children were much bigger. 

Her resentment toward God had not developed until she was much older, so as a child when her parents told her she was going to bible camp she only thought of smores and beaded bracelets with crosses and jesus-fish on them. 

What Gabby had not anticipated, was that camp was just like school but without all the supervision. Instead of trained adults leading the classrooms and monitoring the halls, they had inexperienced teenagers who were too busy flirting with each other to watch the children around them. There were still mean girls, making fun of her, getting the boys to call her ugly, and collectively running away from her whenever she approached as if she were cause to call the CDC. 

So much for loving thy neighbor. 

It was all terrible, but sadly nothing she had not already encountered before. That was until Candace Sturgess arrived on the second day of camp. Word was, she missed the first day because she had an audition for a remake of Alice in Wonderland. There were a handful of nuns that littered the camp, Sister Angeline being the one with the most seniority, and therefore the most judgemental, made the sign of the cross and prayed Candace Sturgess’ parents would choose to save their daughter from the sin in a story like Alice in Wonderland. 

Gabby had to cover her smile at that. It was silly to think there was sin in a children’s story. Alice only ate some cake, drank some juice, talked to an invisible cat, and looked fabulous doing it in her cute little blue dress. After watching the original, Gabby had begged her mom for weeks for a dress like hers to no avail. 

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” Candace spat out by way of greeting. Gabby had not uttered a word--hardly gave her a glance, and yet already Hollywood’s next Alice hated her. Had the mean girls been sending word from camp? “Was God high when he screwed up your eyes?” 

Gabby was one of the rare people on the planet who had heterochromia, one blue eye and one brown. People noticed the eyes and barely ever commented on them--perhaps they were afraid to. Cringing to herself, Gabby had never felt like more of a freak. 

Glancing around for an adult, her heart sank when she saw no one. Knowing that this could only go two ways, Gabby decided that she had already cried enough on the first day of camp and with no grown ups to reprimand her, she decided to fight back. "God doesn't make mistakes. He's infallible, remember?" Though she struggled a little on the word _ infallible _, she forced herself to carry on as if her confidence had not all been stolen from her by countless mean girls. "He meant to give me these eyes just as much as he meant to give you those buck-teeth."

The small crowd that had gathered went quiet, everyone looking between them, riveted. Gabby had never stood up for herself before, but she would be darned if Candace got to be the next Alice _ and _ make Bible camp even more miserable than it already was. Something had to give. 

Candace fumed, "I've gotten two callbacks from auditions because of my teeth." 

Seeing it as the sore spot it was--because she could identify with vulnerability all too well, Gabby pressed, "Yeah, but if you're here, they didn't choose you. You weren't good enough." 

She winced a little at that, surprised at how vicious she could be to say such a thing. 

Candace looked about to explode, her face red and puckered. Remembering how terrible she looked having such strong emotion, she drew a calming breath to lessen the color in her cheeks before she spoke again. "Do you think you'll ever get a soul? Or are you damned to hell forever?" 

“What?” Gabby asked. The girl was not making any sense. Everyone had a soul. A soul and free will, an earthly mother and a father, and a fair chance at the pearly gates with St. Peter. It was all part of being one of God’s children. 

“Gingers don’t have souls!” Candace shouted. 

Gabby’s mouth hung open. She had been made fun of for being a ‘ginger’ before but no one had ever questioned the presence of her soul. Flabbergasted, she watched as Candace turned to the crowd and said, “Everybody knows gingers don't have souls. I don't know how they even let her in here with the rest of us.” 

Everyone took a collective step back, sheep fleeing a wolf. It was Candace that was the wolf--not her. How could they not see that? Gabby shook her head as the chanting started. “_ Soulless Ginger!” _It was repeated over and over, broken a few times with demands that she ‘go to hell where she belonged.’

It was all too much, the noise, the hate, the smug grin on Candace's face. Feeling the tears grip her throat and burn her eyes, Gabby covered her ears and ran as far and as fast as she could. She did not stop until her lungs hurt and she was entirely all alone.

Letting herself fall to the ground, Gabby gave into a good cry. 

She had been crying for quite a while before she jumped at the sound of footsteps and hid behind a bush. A man’s voice said calmly, "It is alright child, you may come out. You are not in trouble."

Gabby peeked through the leaves to discover the man was a priest. Camp had mostly counselors, a few nuns and only one priest. Father Gregory. He was an old man who spent the majority of his time in the chapel and only joined the group for specific services. 

This man was not him. 

She did not recognize this man of the cloth and came out from hiding to give him a closer look. “Who are you?” 

He chuckled and said, “You are right to wonder. Always question.” 

“Sister Angeline says not to question,” Gabby replied quickly, finding it strange that the father would advise otherwise. “God cherishes obedience.” 

“How convenient for Sister Angeline,” he said in a way that made her think he was not pleased.

The idea that she might have gotten the woman in some small degree of trouble, however, gave her a guilty grin to bite back. She would feel wicked for the pleasure she took in someone else’s misfortune, if it had not been for his bright blue eyes. They looked like crystals in the sunlight, sparkling down at her. His smile was warm and his hair the color of wheat--Father Gregory’s antithesis.

“Come, let’s sit,” he said, breaking the trance she seemed under. 

Gabby glanced around for a chair, and startled a little when he sat himself down in the grass beside her. “Father?” She asked, surprised he would let himself be so touched by the elements, having only ever seen priests in the confines of a church. 

Patting the grass beside him, he repeated, “Sit, Gabrielle.”

Cautiously, Gabby sat down. She did not remember giving him her name, but grown ups talked and it was entirely possible that was how he knew of her. 

“I won’t bite.” He chuckled. 

She blushed, feeling silly now for being so hesitant around him. “Yes, father.” 

“Will you share your burden with me? Why you are not with the others?” Though he asked, something in his voice made her think he already knew, if not suspected. 

Fighting the urge to tattle on Candace, Gabby plucked at her hair and instead asked, “Is it true that people with red hair don’t have souls?” If anyone would know, it would be a priest. 

“Fearing damnation?” He asked, smirking.

When Gabby did not respond--shocked that he found something so serious amusing, he gestured to her hair and said, “People with red hair have souls. In fact, they are considered wild and free-spirited because they happen to have a little more free will than anyone else.”

More freewill than anyone else? “How?” 

“Not only do you have your own, but you have some from God’s most beloved angel.”

Trying to recall all of God’s most favored angels, she asked, “Gabriel?” 

The smirk turned to a frown. “No, not _ Gabriel _ ,” he replied in irritation. Clearing his throat he forced the smile back to his lips, though it did not reach his eyes as it had before. “I was referring to the _ first _angel.”

“Oh!” It dawned on her. “The devil.”

“He wasn’t always,” he whispered. 

A brief moment of silence passed while he inspected her and she made work of tying a couple of loose blades of grass into knots. Finally finding the courage to speak again, she asked, “Am I evil?”

“No, my child. You are not,” he assured her. 

“Then how-”

“Do you know the story of Adam and Eve?” He interrupted her. 

“Yes.” Of course she knew it. Everyone knew. Even people who were not saved. 

“Of course you do,” he praised. “But, do you know the story of how God punished Lucifer after?”

“He punished him?” Perhaps it was written somewhere deep in the grown up bible her parents liked to keep on the coffee table, but it was not something her Sunday School teacher had ever covered before. 

He smiled. “You don’t think God would let him get away scott-free, do you?” 

Gabby paused, thinking about it. 

“Do your parents scold you when you do wrong?”

She nodded. “One time I was grounded for making a mess of Mommy’s make up, and then when she saw that I dropped one of her lipsticks in the heating vent and it melted, I got a spanking too!”

“Double the punishment,” he said sympathetically. Turning his head to look out into the treeline, he seemed to have something weighing on him as he said, “This is the same.” 

Totally invested now, Gabby leaned forward, “So what did he do? God. To punish the devil?”

“He cursed him with a soulmate,” he said matter-of-factly. 

“What?!” 

Turning back to see her wide-eyed and mouth agape, he chuckled. “It is true. God gave Lucifer a soul and then split it in half and put the other half into a woman.” 

“No way! Who?” Gabby started racking her brain for all the female names from the Bible that she could remember. It was mostly just Mary…

“A human,” he said with a rueful smile. “The very creature he was jealous of and grew to hate, was the creature God forced him to love for all eternity.”

Gabby swallowed, trying to picture a red-skinned devil with horns and hoofs hugging a woman like her father and mother did. It was crazy, and if she had not heard this first-hand from a priest, she would not have believed it. 

He reached for her then, holding a lock of hair in his fingers as he said, “Red hair did not exist before Lucifer was punished. Neither Adam, nor Eve had it to pass on to their children.” He let it go. “It was created the day that God combined his soul with a human’s. As the world populated, that particular hair color spread.”

“Oh my gosh!” Panic rose in her throat. “I have red hair, so I got some of Satan’s soul inside me?”

Pulling at his collar, he laughed a hearty laugh. “You and about two percent of the population, though only one person is his true mate.” 

“Wait a minute.” She held her hands up, trying to slow down the freight train of realization in her brain. “Does this mean I’m his great, great, great, great, great, great grandchild?”

The priest stiffened, and gave her a disgusted look. “Hardly. It was his soul that was shared, not his seed.”

Gabby gave him a curious look.

“Sorry,” he said, quickly. “He did not father any children.” 

“That’s not true,” Gabby said with a small smile, only too excited to correct a grown up. “All the demons of hell are his children.” 

He wet his lips and averted his gaze. “That is correct. Though, he has fathered no human children. He has not-” He paused, searching for words she would understand. Many adults did that, and it was beyond frustrating. “_ Wed _ his human soulmate yet.”

Sex. He meant sex. Gabby had learned all about sex one day when there were no seats at the front of the school bus and she had to sit in the back with the bigger kids.

Too mortified to admit to knowing what that was--especially since it sounded painful and gross, Gabby decided not to roll her eyes at him for dumbing down his explanation so much. Instead, she asked, “Why?” 

“The angels hid her from him for many, many years.” 

Gabby furrowed her brow at the sad expression on his face. “Good.”

“Is it?” He lightly challenged.

“Um,” Gabby gaped. “Yes. He’s the _ devil _.”

The priest got up and reached to help her stand. His hand swallowed hers as she rose to her feet. “He was an angel first,” he reminded her as they walked back toward camp. 

With each step, she turned his words over and over in her brain. “Did he ever find her? Or do the angels still have her?” 

The priest bit the inside of his cheek before admitting, “He found her, but she is not ready to be his yet.” 

Gabby said nothing in return as she wondered what he meant by ‘not ready to be his.’ Yet.

Breaking the silence, he said, “Remember Gabby, when children say you are soulless, they are mistaken. You are filled with so much soul and life that it scares them and makes them jealous.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, not knowing what to think. As the sound of kids playing filled her ears, she glanced up at him and asked, “The devil is bad, but he would be nice to his wife, right?” There had to be hope for the poor woman that was destined to marry Satan.

The priest raised an eyebrow at her. His blue eyes shimmered and a small smirk tugged at his lips. 

Gabby’s cheeks heated and she shook her head. “Nevermind.” 

“You should join the group now,” he said, saving her any further embarrassment. 

Grateful for the escape, Gabby gave him a quick smile and ran toward the playground. Heads turned as she walked by, appalled that she would show her face again. Gabby drew a deep breath as she passed by Candace on the monkey bars. Hanging there, she glared daggers at Gabby, until quite suddenly, she fell. 

There was a brief shriek preceded by a sick thud. Gabby froze, her heart beating wildly in her chest as she watched everyone swarm around Candace, panic thick in the air. Unsure of what to say or do, Gabby stuttered as she stepped back away from everyone and lifted her head, looking for an anchor to hold onto in the chaos. 

Her eyes met those of the priest and she stilled. Why was he not moving--not panicking like the rest of them? He gave her a slight bow of his head, the smile he had worn before never leaving his lips. It was as if he knew something she did not. 

“Inside now!” Sister Angeline yelled across the yard, startling Gabby. 

When she looked back, the priest was gone. Gabby never saw him again, and neither did she see Candace. She never returned to camp that summer, the rumor being that she died. Sister Angeline assured everyone that she had only broken her collarbone, however.

Gabby fingered her red locks and wondered if it was a touch of the devil’s soul that gave her such a feeling of gratitude to be rid of Candace Sturgess.

The repetitive beeping of messages from ChelseasDad pulled Gabby back to the present. She knew now who that priest had been and why he told her that story. Knew what he had done to Candace Sturgess, who never did get the part of Alice in the remake.

So many lies.

**ChelseasDad:** ** _ Thank god we live in the same city. It will make things so much easier. My wife is with her girlfriends every Thursday night and I’m left all alone. _ **

**ChelseasDad:** ** _ Is this Thursday too soon? Want to come over and let me lick those perky tits?_ **

A picture of his fully erect penis popped up in their message box. 

Her jaw tightened. 

After almost an hour of pouring his heart out over how much he loved his emotionally distant wife, he was still on his computer making plans to screw another woman. Gabby would have lost her faith in humanity at that exact moment, if she had not already before. Perhaps on some strange level, it was fitting that no _ man _would ever satisfy her. 

Not bothering to tap out a response, Gabby uploaded a recording of their conversation (dick pic included) and his wife’s details, and her own demands outlined below. 

Seconds passed as she imagined the shock wearing off on the other side of the internet. Three little dots moved and suddenly a litany of exclamations and threats filled her screen. For as timid as Paul acted, he had a real mean side to him judging by the things he said he would do to her if she ever dared to ‘fuck with his marriage.’ 

Gabby signed out and watched her bank balance climb. 

He got what he deserved. 


	3. Same Old Dance

Gabby did not have friends, never knowing who to trust. Though, in the rare instances that she allowed herself to get close to another female, she was told often how she was young and unattached and should sow her wild oats. That was easier said than done. 

Taking a man home with her for the sheer purpose of getting completely naked and dancing between the sheets was not something she made a habit of, as it sadly never left her satisfied. That did not mean her libido, and a strong need to rebel against fate, did not beg her to try. As she was now…

“You’re so fucking hot,” the no-named man from the bar hissed, his thumbs digging into her as his grip tightened. The heels of his feet kept sliding out from under him as he sought more leverage on the bed. Clumsy. Gabby leaned forward, her long red hair surrounding their faces like a curtain. Driving her tongue deep into his mouth, she silenced his pathetic endearments. His way with words had her regretting him and fantasizing about the blond he had been standing next to instead. Perhaps he wouldn’t have ruined a good fuck with the wrong words, as this one was. 

Sweat dripped down the crack of her ass, her tits bouncing and slapping hard as she ignored his heavy breathing, finding even that annoying now. She was not a cruel person, only a frustrated one. Sex was not something that came easily to her. In her twenty three years, she had only ever been able to complete the act once and that night was one she would forever try to forget. 

Focusing beyond the other person in her bed, Gabby’s knees burned into the mattress, as she impaled herself on him over and over again. She deserved this, damn it. To be free. To take what she wanted for a change. She was a grown woman, and she belonged to no one--despite what the universe thought. Fuck fate.

A loud clap and a sting pulled her attention back to the mistake beneath her. 

“You like that, baby?” He asked, the hand-shaped print on her ass warming. 

Staring back into his hazel eyes, she watched the male pride go to his head. How obnoxious. Deciding to use his ego to her advantage, she fought to lose herself and what she was destined for. Bending lower, she let her breasts drag across his hairy chest. Her palms spread flat on the mattress to either side of his head and she whispered, “Again.”

Only too happy to oblige, he spanked her other cheek, bucking up into her for all he was worth. A rogue moan escaped her as his cock battered her insides. Chuckling in her ear, he insisted on more dirty talk. “Does Daddy’s girl need another spankin’?” 

Gabby rolled her eyes and bit his ear to shut him up. Why were all the pretty ones dumb as rocks? This wasn’t a porno, just a night without end that should not have ever been. Smiling when he yelped, caught in her teeth, she picked up the pace. His pain was inconsequential and he was a fool if he thought otherwise. He had been brought home for one reason only, and it wasn’t to make a friend.

“Fuck, that hurt,” he complained. 

Covering his mouth, she shushed him. “I’m so close.”

Lie. 

How could she be with the constant distraction of his imperfections? Praying her lie would put an end to his asinine narration, she clenched around the cock she dominated, giving silent encouragement. 

After a couple of minutes, in the quiet repetition of wet slap and gradual build up, Gabby felt herself tense toward the edge. She closed her eyes and rode hard for that special bliss she hoped ten inches could bring, forgetting the man attached to the dick, but for his hands clutching at her. She had tried to ignore the pain of his tight vice grip, so determined to have the pleasure that had been denied her. 

The pain was too great, however. “Ease up,” she barked down to him, wincing at his squeeze.

He did not, and more than that, he began to grab wildly at her, slapping at her arm. Her eyes snapped open then to stare into the face of a dying man. Panic flooded his eyes, bloodshot and bulging, tears drowning them. Every muscle in his body grew taut as he fought the pain in his chest, ugly veins sticking out against the backdrop of his once supple flesh.

“No,” she breathed. Anger replacing worry as she declared, “Not again!”

“ _ H-elp _ ,” he gasped, one hand going to his chest as if he could somehow soothe it by doing so. 

Gabby was off him in an instant, crouching to start chest compressions. “It’s okay,” she lied again, for far more noble reasons this time around. “You’re going to be okay.” 

His face was already turning grey with death before she had finished pumping his chest for the first round. Gabby turned her head and laid it on his chest, listening for a beat and hearing only silence. “Fuck.” 

“Not anymore.” 

The voice came from the all the dark corners of her bedroom, and sounded only too pleased by her failure to save the man. Of course he was pleased, that had been the point all along. Men in their late twenties did not die of heart attacks without a little help. 

“Show yourself,” she commanded, goosebumps spreading over her naked body. She didn’t cover herself, refusing to give him the satisfaction of her shame. Not when it was he that was so indecent. Needing to still the shake in her legs, she found strength in goading him. “Or perhaps you prefer hiding, you coward.” 

The darkness laughed and an apparition of eyes much like her own--one sharp and ice blue, the other a deep dark cocoa brown--glittered bright before the rest of his body materialized. 

The voice belonged to a well-groomed man who looked to be in his late twenties or early thirties, regardless of the fact that he was centuries older than appearances would have one believe. He had a goatee and was wearing his hair short this time--though that changed regularly. It was a truly wondrous shade of black that somehow alternated from soft and inky to the crisp glossy sheen of raven feathers on his whim. 

Her fingers twitched, reminiscing on how it had felt when they used to run through it. She immediately cursed herself for such damning muscle memory--those days were done. The rich cologne he wore, the smug smile, and the expensive clothes was nothing more than a costume, hiding who he truly was. Gabby was no longer so easily fooled. 

He did not always wear a suit, although when he did, it was always of the fifty thousand dollar variety. It was quite the stark contrast to her own wardrobe and she forced herself not to admire it. Gabby had no money--he had seen to that, and had been relegated to this shitty apartment with barely enough room to for another person to fuck. At the thought of it, her eyes found his before she quickly averted her gaze.

“I knew you liked looking at me,” he teased, shining a light on her internal struggle.

Her body had been responding to his presence--against her will, though her mind reminded her that he was pure evil and deemed so by God. Satan, Lucifer, the Prince of Darkness--he went by many names--though he had once introduced himself to her as Sam. She had been so innocent and naive then, believing him, eating out of the palm of his hand.

Never again.

Gabby pointed at the heart attack victim on her bed. “You’ve got to stop doing this.” 

“I will when you stop trying to upset me,” he replied like a petulant child.

“Believe it or not, Lucifer,” she ground through her teeth, “Me bringing him home had absolutely nothing to do with you, and everything to do with me getting the fuck off!”

His eyes traveled down her body, enjoying the journey. “Oh mate, you could have just asked if you needed it that bad.”

She considered punching him square in the gut, and if he had not been impervious to attack, she probably would have, despite whatever wrath it wrought. Though, Gabby had been dealing with him for far too long, and knew he would not harm a hair on her head. Not when he wanted her as his immortal bride. 

He smiled at her, knowing how her mind worked--he had had her entire life to study. “I don’t give up what is mine.” Wetting his lips, he asked, “Would you like to see the throne I had fashioned for you? Promise it’s not any smaller than mine.” 

“Go fuck yourself,” she snarled, rising up off the bed. 

His gaze swept over her, further dilating with each inch of flesh revealed. His voice was husky as he admitted, “It’s not myself I’d like to fuck.”

Gabby flipped her hair over her shoulder, letting it blaze down her back. Slowly, she turned away from him, denying him the full frontal view he’d been enjoying. “You’ve made that apparent.”

“Not enough, it would seem.” 

She knew his eyes were on her ass, but his attention remained with the victim on her bed. “I’m not yours,” she reminded him--and herself. “I can fuck who I want.”

“And I can kill who I want,” he quipped. “Isn’t free will splendid?”

“Man was given free will, not you,” she reminded him, viciously. 

She could hear the rueful smile in his voice. “No, I took mine. And was punished for it.”

Closing her eyes, her voice hardened. “Then learn your lesson, repent, and kneel before your master.”

“And give up the kingdom I’ve created? Never. I kneel for nothing and no one.” A moment of silence passed, his seriousness disappearing as mischief glittered in his eyes. “Unless of course, it’s to worship at your-” He paused to emphasize, “ _ Sacred temple. _ ”

She threw a hand up. “Don’t even.”

“What?” He teased. “Too naughty?”

This needed to end. He was wicked with his words and worse with his intentions. He had been tender and sweet as Sam, but that was before she knew his truth. She scanned the room, looking for something to cover with, deciding she had waited long enough to save face. “I’d rather join a convent.”

“Perfect.” 

The pleasure in his voice had her flexing intimate muscles and then hating herself for such an involuntary response. 

“I haven’t worn priest robes in quite a while,” he said, running a hand over his chest. “Not since bible camp.”

She had just been remembering that the other night, strange that he would make mention of that now. He had been so tame in her youth, caring and compassionate--even when she came of age. It was not until she rejected him, that he showered her with such lust. She did not know if it was a desperate attempt to tempt her, or if it was simply that her rejection turned him on.

“And there are so very many uses for rosary beads,” he carried on. “Now that you’re old enough, I can’t wait to show you.” No, it was neither. This was how he nettled her. 

Fists clenching at her sides, Gabby braced herself against the images he bombarded her with--prayer beads in various states of misuse. Her own face stared back at her in his visions, twisted in ecstacy so brilliant as to verge on painful, big black eyes rolled back in her head and tight lips curled into an O. 

“ _ Stop _ ,” she breathed, her face flushing with the knowledge he shared. 

“There will come a day when you beg me not to,” he stepped closer. “On that day, mate, I will crown you my queen.” His voice was in her ear, his presence so close behind her now that she knew he had flashed across the room to invade her personal space, as he tended to do.

Gabby swallowed, the image of a golden crown appearing in her mind. A pair of hands--his hands--placed it gently atop her head. They were surrounded by darkness, as if they were the only people in the world, her smile true as he looked into her eyes. He leaned in to press his lips to hers and she welcomed it, holding his hands as they lost themselves in each other. The darkness gave way to firelight, bright red burning around them, their attention never distracted by the screams of agony and hatred that tormented. Her stomach churned at the insidious thoughts planted in her brain, and yet she couldn’t force away the image, not until the fires turned to embers and all that surrounded them was cinder and ash falling from the sky like snow. Only then did he pull from her lips and whisper,  _ Our love will outlast everything.  _

Had she just watched a complete and utter genocide unfold in the span of a kiss? Or had he simply given her a snapshot of a vacation home in Hell? Bile rose in the back of her throat, despising herself more for missing his kiss, than for playing a part in such evil plans. What kind of monster was she?

“Looking for this?” He asked, holding her robe up for her. 

In the past, she would have ripped it from him and covered herself, yelling at him to, ‘piss off!’ She knew now that he enjoyed her fire too much, and instead forced herself to remain calm as she slid each arm in and allowed him to draw it up over her shoulders. The brush of his fingertips over her neck as he did so made her shiver until her belly tightened and she thought again of his lips on hers. 

“Still frustrated, mate?” He taunted. 

Having learned long ago that he was the father of lies and could see through each and every one of them, she no longer bothered. Making it a point to look over at her bed, she allowed the anger she felt to sound as irritation. “You always kill them at the worst time.” 

His face pressed into the back of her head, inhaling her scent. Again, she felt that familiar twinge of excitement dampen her sex. “They are not worthy of you,” he rumbled into her skull, his erection drawing full against her backside.

“And you are?”

He did not answer, only filled her head with images of him worshipping her naked body, in various positions on the floor, the bed, the counter in her kitchen. His thumbs worked her shoulders, massaging the tension and resistance away as he implanted more of his fantasies.

“Stop it,” she groaned. 

“Like what you see too much?” He pecked a kiss to her shoulder and she shrugged him off, though she did so only half-heartedly. 

Forcing herself to stifle the desire she felt, she spat, “Sorry, find another girl. Whips and chains aren’t my thing.” There had been no such images shared, which made her insult all the more biting. 

Fingers trailed up her arm as he purred, “Bondage can be fun, but I find I enjoy your pleasure more than your pain.” 

Oh he didn't like seeing her in pain? 

Too late. 

Picking at his pride, she stepped away and drew her robe closed. “Has anyone ever told you that for the devil, your fantasies are pedestrian?” 

He stuck his hands in his pockets, following her as she left her bedroom. “You’re trying so hard not to fall in love with me. Fighting the inevitable.”

Gabby shook her head as she stepped into her kitchen. “You’re so full of yourself. You’re such a...a…” She tried to think of the best insult to throw his way as she opened her fridge and pulled the lime juice out. 

“Considerate lover?” He leaned against the counter and grinned. 

“Ugh,” she groaned, disgusted.

His fingers traced the counter top as he ventured, “You used to appreciate my humor...before you knew.”

“That you’re Satan--literally,” she clarified because his words seemed too pure without her adding that very important fact to messy things. 

“You say that as if it’s a bad thing.” 

Gabby grabbed a bottle of vodka and triple sec from her freezer and slammed the door shut. “Could it possibly be good?” 

“I’ve been told I’m quite good,” he teased, giving her smug smile. He was evading--it was good he was uncomfortable. Making his drop-ins as upsetting for him as they were for her was what he got for ruining her life. 

She set the bottles down between them and planted seeds of doubt regarding his virility. “Would any woman dare tell you if you weren’t?” 

Instead of taking the bait, he did something entirely infuriating instead. He waggled his brows at her. “You have to try the goods before you can leave a review.” 

“You’re insufferable,” she said, turning to grab two glasses from her cupboard.

“So put me out of my misery.” He began pouring the vodka as soon as she set them down. “By the way, have I mentioned how much I enjoy it when we make Kamikazes together?” Dimples flared high in his cheeks. “It’s no wonder it’s our favorite drink.” Leaning in, he smirked, “I’ll let you in on a little secret; I only drink them with you.” 

Ignoring his sentiment, she cut to the chase. “We’re not fucking, and I’m not marrying you, so just get it out of your head--and mine.” She squeezed the lime juice into each glass, her brow furrowed to her task, trying not to think of just how automatic it was for her to pull down a second glass in the first place. 

“No one said anything about marriage,” Lucifer quickly corrected. “You’re my soulmate, and therefore Queen to my King. Marriage is a convention man created to better leash their urge to hump every hole they come across--or rather  _ in _ .” He snickered at his own joke. “That isn’t necessary in our case.” 

“Because it is so well-known that the devil is a devout monogamist.” Her laugh was cruel.

His eyes met hers and his tone softened as he asked, “How could I possibly desire another when I know you exist?”

Gabby sucked in a breath and ducked her head. He sounded too much like Sam right then--her Sam. His words were too pure for the reality of everything. Both their hands went for the triple sec at the same time, grazing each other as they did. His touch was warm and soft and way too good for someone so inherently bad. 

“I’m only bad because the Bible tells you so,” he whispered. 

Too stunned to move, Gabby's hand dropped away from the bottle, letting him pour. He eyed the levels as he spoke, “I can be good to you. In fact, if you remember correctly, I was. When you let me."

“Stop sounding so desperate,” she whispered back, her voice betraying her own loneliness. For the past four years she had become quite adept at keeping Lucifer at bay, always reminding herself of what he had done. Always too proud to ever be forgiven, he quipped back, making light of his pursuit of her, brushing off every insult she had hurtled at him. Their dance was always interrupted whenever he reminded her of the man she had begun to give her heart to.

He sipped the drink in front of him, his eyes glinting over the top of it as he did. “We are fated. The sooner you come to terms with that the better.”

Good, Sam was gone. She could deal with Lucifer. Not one to let a good drink go to waste, she took a sip of hers before she bitterly asked, “And what terms are those? Whore myself out to Satan and birth an army of his brats?”

He had the indecency to look wounded. “Now that’s not fair.” 

“Tell me about it,” she cut him off before he could keep talking. “Just what would I get out of damning my soul and handing myself over as broodmare? And don’t you have enough demons already?”

“Such colorful language.  _ Broodmare _ ,” he repeated, laughing. “I do adore your tongue. I look forward to feeling it lick me later.”

“You wish.” 

“I do.”

Gabby rolled her eyes and took a bigger gulp of her drink, letting it slither down to her belly and soothe the anxiety that only his presence brought. She wished he would leave her alone already, quit tormenting her. His affection only offered pain, suffering, and eternal damnation.

He held his finger in the air, looking amused as he said, “One, a child of our union will be just that--a child. A combination of both you and me. Because you are my mate, you will not bear demons. And any children we produce will be fine, well-adjusted members of society.” He did not say which ‘society’-- Earth or Hell, and that did not escape her notice. “Many child psychologists say that a child’s disposition is all in the parenting, and we’ll be more involved than Dahmer’s parents.” 

Gabby coughed on her drink. Jeffrey Dahmer was the bar for which to determine one’s parenting success now?

Another finger flew up on his perfectly manicured hand. “Two, I’d never pay you for sex, mate.” 

“Because it’s my job?” She challenged, her lips pursing and her brows raising. Her hackles were raised, though part of her was relieved that he had steered the conversation away from children.

Meeting her challenge, he made it a point to glance back over his shoulder toward her bedroom. “No. Since you give it away so freely.” He paused to let that barb cut. “Therefore, you wouldn’t be whoring yourself to me.” 

Gabby sighed and closed her eyes, feeling a headache coming on. Again, he was beside her, his fingers working at her temples. She hated that he could so easily see from her expression when a headache was forming, and that his fingers soothed her so. His words were soft as he continued, “Though I have many more points to make, I feel as though three is sufficient for the time being. So I’ll only add that as my  _ mate _ , you’ll have a place at my side and receive my undying devotion.” 

The pain was easing away as she imagined having anything she desired. Images of a privileged life flashed before her eyes: marble mansions, custom cars, designer dresses, and a staff to serve. “It can all be yours,” he promised. “Let me give it to you.”

Children raced through a main hall she’d never seen before but somehow recognized as hers, and down the front step onto the perfectly manicured lawn. They smiled back at her and mouthed,  _ Come on, Mom!  _ What it would be like to have a family again… It was then that an old pain resurfaced, shaking her from the vision. “You killed my parents.”

Dropping his hands, he turned away from her, huffing in annoyance. “It was unintentional.”

She said nothing, only began pouring another drink. They had covered this ground before, and gotten nowhere. Accident or not, her parents were gone forever. 

“Please leave.”

Lucifer remained, tracing the tip of his finger over the rim of his glass. Was he looking for words? It would not have been the first time she had rendered the devil speechless. Losing her patience, Gabby growled, “Get out!”

His eyes lowered. Yet still, he did not move. 

“Shall I get my gun?” she threatened, needing to feel powerful, or at least not power-less. 

Finally finding words, he forced a smile over his lips as he said, “Ah yes, that pistol you picked up last week.” He opened one of her kitchen drawers, pulling the gun in question out of it. She had not left it there, though she knew that didn’t matter. He had a way of finding whatever he was looking for, wherever he looked. Holding it up into the light now, he smiled. “Do you think this will keep the bad men away?”

Gabby had gotten it for protection against some people she owed money to. Everything cost something and she was not exactly making millions, so she made a couple of deals, placed a couple of bad bets. Everything had been going smoothly at first, and she was even able to pay off her tuition after her parents inheritance had been given away to charity per an addendum to their will made on the day of their death. Lucifer had a sick sense of humor. 

He had told her once that he believed if he had given the money to needy people it would balance out offing her parents. He had added weakly that, ‘It was a romantic gesture…’

“If this is your way of trying to  _ romance  _ me,” she said, opening an old wound with her word choice. “Trying to scare me and make me feel inadequate is not going to work.”

He stilled, remembering that particular argument. Whatever frustration or fury he felt was extinguished as quickly as he felt it. Then he shrugged as if entirely carefree. “I’d love to take you on a carriage ride, but you refuse to come to Hell.”

Memories of the dark, dank cell she had been locked in filled her with rage. Gabby reached for his glass to throw it, and missed when he swiped it away quickly. Fuming, she reminded him, “You trapped me last time!” 

“It was only a dream,” he said impatiently, grabbing the vodka off the counter and pouring it into the glass in his hand. He sounded almost forlorn as he added, “You’ve never really been. Haven’t seen any of the good parts.”

Accepting the glass he handed her--only because it was alcohol--she slugged it back before she sneered, “The dream was enough.”

“Trust me, it’s not nearly.” His eyes fired again with raw need and possession. 

That was real. Whatever beautiful lie he had spun for her, his eyes--so like hers, spoke of the truth. She had something he craved, and it was the only weapon she had against him. Unfortunately, it was a longing she felt as well. She was his soulmate, and as much as she denied him, their tie was strong. Tears pricked her eyes, threatening to escape and roll down her cheeks. How many times had they had this conversation? How many times had he insisted they were meant to love each other? “At what cost?” Gabby gasped, surprised to hear herself utter that last question aloud. 

“I’d pay any price.” His lips brushed her ear and his goatee tickled the crook of her neck. “You’re worth it.”

Resistance was futile, and yet it was all she knew to do anymore. His scent filled her nostrils and calmed her nerves, the warmth of his flesh so unlike any other man’s. The world was filled with Pauls and he was the father of them. Yet, when he held her like this, it was so easy to let herself consider damnation. “Do you remember when I made my father buy me a hope chest?” She asked, allowing herself this brief reprieve.

“Of course,” he purred. “I used to love looking through it while you slept at night so I could better woo you when you came of age.” 

“I was so certain I was going to marry a knight, or at least the modern equivalent,” she confessed because she knew he despised the idea of her wed to anyone else but him. 

“Mm, that was quite a phase.” His arms tightened around her, hugging her close. “I tortured all the knights in Hell extra until I was sure you had gotten over such fantasy.”

There was some satisfaction in hearing him admit his jealousy so freely. “My greatest concern was deciding what flowers to put in a bouquet for a dream wedding I was still too young for.”

Resting his forehead against the back of her head, he chuckled. “I possessed no less than thirty-two florists in your fifteenth year, trying to find the perfect arrangement for you.” Pecking a kiss into her hair, he said, “All of your burdens have been shared. I was always with you, and I always will be.” 

Sam again. 

Sort of.

It was enough to make her crazy. 

Gabby held her breath as he traveled down over her hips, healing the bruises John Doe left as he found her hands hanging beside her. Twining his fingers in hers, Lucifer raised them to press a kiss to the back of her hand. “You don’t need a gun, mate. Only me. No one will harm you as mine.”

She had only wanted to scare them away. So many men had died around her while he staked his claim that she wasn’t sure she had the stomach for more death. “You’ll kill them.”

“If you like,” he said so simply, that it was hard to imagine they were discussing life and death. “Say the word and it is done.” 

Gabby sucked at the sour taste in her mouth. “You’re disgusting.”

She didn’t pull from his arms and neither did he loosen his grip. Hating the teeny tiny part of herself deep within that wondered if maybe his way had merits, she kept quiet. It was becoming more and more difficult to spurn his advances. In the past four years, he hadn’t given up his chase, flirting relentlessly at every chance, learning all her interests, toying with her life to keep her notice. On more than a few occasions, she’d woken up in the morning, having had the feeling that she might not have been sleeping alone. Again a voice inside herself asked,  _ Would that be so bad?  _ Knowing better than to listen to that voice, she pulled herself from his grip. 

“Fine,” he relented. “I’ll leave you--for now.” Taking a step back away from her, he sighed at the loss of contact. 

The cool air rushed over her, letting her feel his absence. She had wanted him to go, and now she was stifling the urge to ask him to say. This was how he worked, playing games, making her want what was wrong. Gabby cursed him under her breath.

To which he replied, “I heard that,” over his shoulder as he walked toward the darkest corner of the room. He turned and gave her a look of exasperation. “Try not to drag any more unsuspecting imbeciles back to your bed. As much as I love dispatching them, I prefer you untouched and I’ve got a busy schedule this week.” 

Gabby scowled at the flippant way he spoke, and if she were being honest, the fact that he apparently didn’t have time for her. That was a terrible thought.

“Although, if you need it that bad,” he smirked. “Maybe this will help.” He snapped his fingers and a hot pink dildo materialized on the counter beside her. 

“Asshole!”

His grin grew faint as he faded away into the darkness, his eyes taking the longest to leave. Gabby closed her own and drew a deep breath, hoping the sex toy might disappear when she opened them again. 

No such luck. 

Instead, there was a note beside it that read,  _ Feel free to use it. I’ll be watching.  _

“Asshole,” she cursed again, crumpling the love note up and throwing it in the trash. 

There was no new note, or disembodied words to reply, though Gabby was sure she heard someone laughing far off in the distance. 

The sun was rising and Gabby had a long day ahead of her. Luckily, she knew from experience that when she returned to her bedroom, the dead guy would be gone. At least Satan tidied up after himself. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Some might recognize this particular chapter as Amor Diaboli -- it was a one off that I did for fanfic and then realized the characters were too original to be fanfic and so I redid it and built this original work around it.


	4. When We Fell

**Some Six Thousand Years Ago**

It had all been dark for so very long before God decided to create Samael to bring forth the light. He was beyond beautiful, being that he was the first creation done so with light. There were so many fine features to sculpt, to personalize and pronounce. God himself, marveled at his own handiwork and passed that pride on to Samael. Unfortunately, it was that pride that was responsible for the fall. At least the first one. 

As God went about making his angels, each created differently and tasked with various responsibilities, so too did Samael go about his work. Stars suddenly sparkled in the sky, decorating the curtain of darkness that was existence. Each time Samael with his long golden locks and his honey colored eyes created another star, God applauded him, praising his industry. Proud as a peacock, Samael found his purpose was too easily fulfilled, and took it upon himself to create a very special star--one that would shine bright ending the darkness of night for all around it. 

What Samael had not anticipated in this grand work, was that this star--this sun, would nurture life. God sensed the possibilities and took a brief moment to shower his first creation with affection before focusing his energy on another. 

At first, Samael was not bothered by his creator’s absence, having grown comfortable working independently. There were the other angels--lesser angels, as well. New and friendly, they all attempted to form their relationships with their eldest brother. Sometimes Samael would humor them with a little light encouragement, though mostly, he kept to himself. He did not mean any offense. It was simply that he was an elite class of angel--above even the archangels--and he had a personal audience with God on most occasions.

Until he became unavailable. 

In all the time that God had ceased his visitation with his angels, working on his next creation, they began to seek Samael for counsel. As the senior most angel, it was only logical that he was the most qualified available to answer their various inquiries. Recognizing the need for order, Samael lead them to continue God’s work. He had missed God, his only true friend, but found that stepping into his shoes filled the void.

Until he returned. 

With his latest creation--one that he had deemed was his most perfected to date. 

Samael staggered back from the pain of such a proclamation. It was a wound that would not heal, and so it festered in Samael’s heart. After everything he had done, all he had given--had he meant nothing to his creator?

The first human man and woman were named Adam and Lilith, and they were presented before all the angels to appreciate while God revealed his other creation--one he said was only made possible by Samael and his vision of sunlight. Instead of feeling joy at his aiding his maker, Samael again felt overlooked as God allowed Adam to name it. Still so rudimentary in their language, Adam and Lilit played with their mouths until they could make the same sounds: Er-th (Earth).

Setting them safely down on it in a lush garden he had made specifically for them as their home, God decreed that the angels would have a new purpose and that was to serve mankind. Swallowing the pain in his throat, and steeling himself to it, Samael lifted his chin and sauntered off. It was his firm belief that he need not have anything to do with God’s latest toy. Surely, he had earned that? After all he had done for God. Especially since these humans were not in need. They were well-provided for, had all the angels in existence looking out for them.

Samael was finishing his latest constellation when God appeared to him. It had been the first time he had granted Samael a private audience since creating man, and it would also be the last. He had noticed the lack of acceptance on Samael’s part and expressed a desire for him to change his ways. He left then, never waiting for Samael’s reply--letting him know that none was necessary. He had set an expectation and Samael was to meet it without excuse. 

It was then that the rumblings in Heaven began. 

Devoid of God’s companionship, and having disappointed him, Samael had no other to turn to but lesser beings--his brothers. With their magnificent wings and strong muscular forms, Samael could not fathom how Adam and Lilith were to be worshiped above them, citing that they walked the Earth with excrement falling from their bare asses!

With enough conversation and spite, Samael was able to sway a third of the angels to his way of thinking. Feeling particularly empowered by that fact, coupled with his pride at being the very first and therefore ultimate creation, Samael called forth a rebellion in Heaven.

It was with the strength one only finds in tending to wounds that will not heal, that he charged forward, clashing his sword against his brother Michael’s. Moving too fast for the archangel, he was close to conquering him when his other brother Gabriel appeared, meeting his steel. Two against one, Samael roared hatred for God, his humans, and these loyal lap dogs that resorted to such tactics because they were not enough of a match on their own. 

Until then physical pain had not been felt by angels, never before having experienced injury. The cry of the first slain angel was piercing, the blood such a brilliant color, poured over his tattered wings--desecrating them. Like his brothers on both sides, Samael froze, turning to bear witness to the agony their war had brought. At the sight of Ramiel's crumpled form, he knew that he had allowed his broken heart to lead him too far astray. There was no undoing this. No going back.

Before he could call for the fighting to cease, Gabriel swung his sword and Michael charged at him. His brothers fought righteously, so strictly following God’s orders that they appeared unshaken. Knowing now what death looked like, Samael refused to succumb to it. His sweet brother Sariel jumped into the fray and was sliced down by the stray swing of his sword. So consumed by the fight, Samael could only commit his death to memory and mourn him later. The battle was a particularly brutal one. Many angels died and for the ones that lived, gashes and bruises covered their once perfect forms, bones broke and blood splattered. 

Lightning flashed and thunder cracked loudly as God demanded an end to this madness. 

God rest a heavy hand over the top of Samael’s head and damned him for his pride. The golden tips of his hair turned black and let the darkness leech up to his roots, stripping him of the color. It was his purpose--light. God was taking his purpose away from him. Searing pain struck behind his eyes and he knew his creator was taking the light from his irises as well. 

No. 

Not that. Please. 

Stop! 

Desperate to keep the light that was a part of him, Samael’s cracked and abraded hands came up to grip God’s arm. Leaning back, his teeth nearly shattered from the powerful clench of his jaw. He was resisting--needing to keep the light that was so a part of him. 

“It is mine!” He growled before he wrenched his head free and fell back. 

God towered above, so much of Samael’s stolen light surrounding him. His expression was one of irritation and surprisingly, some small amount of appreciation. Had Samael’s mind not been so poisoned by his pride, he might have recognized that in his father and attempted reconciliation. Instead, he got back up on his feet and stared resentfully into the face of his creator. 

One feels God’s words more than hears them. A sudden sense of unease overtook Samael as he felt, _ You may have what remains of your light, but because of your betrayal you will lack my warmth. _

Once again his hand came up, though this time his fingers did not touch Samael, only hovered above his head. The pain was sharp and sudden, dropping him to his knees as icicles speared his skull and frost took his brain. His body shivered on the ground--completely chilled to the bone, long after God had finished. True to his maker’s word, Samael had been stripped of God’s warmth and though he could not see his reflection, he knew the honey color of his eyes had turned a crisp blue to reflect the void he was left to live in. 

“You should have killed me.” Long black strands of hair foreign to him poorly shielded his glittering pupils from view as he sobbed.

What was once warm and comforting, now burned in contrast against the chill. _ No, my child. That is your solution. Not mine. _

The majority of his light gone, Samael held himself as he asked, “What will you do with me now that I no longer serve a purpose?” 

Sadness washed over him as the weight of God’s response settled on his shoulders. _ You spilled blood in Heaven. Therefore, you are no longer welcome in it. _

A great sense of loneliness and foreboding quaked throughout heaven and sank deep into the hearts of every angel. _ Samael and every angel that raised a sword in his cause will fall from Heaven from this day forward for all of eternity. _

And then he was gone. They all were. All the angels still in God’s good graces. 

Samael lifted his head and looked around him to see what was left of his brothers worn from battle, wandering aimlessly in the dark and barren wasteland they had been left in. If they had fallen, it had not felt like it...not until they realized how truly alone they were. 

Cupping his hands together, Samael opened his eyes and focused all of his energy into his palms. A cold blue light took the form of a tiny miniscule star of such low calibour that Samael would have scrapped it and started again had he made it prior to his exile. Completely sapped of all his energy, Samael begrudgingly realized it was the best he could do. 

Looking up from the blue orb in his hands, he watched as the angels gathered around him. They were drawn to the light, and therefore drawn to him. Despite their current state of exile they looked to him and he appreciated their loyalty even if it was based only in survival. 

Lifting the small star up into the sky above, Samael vowed to make many more. He would maintain his light and if he was fortunate enough, find more. 

Tears rolled down one of his brother’s cheeks as he said, "Samael, your beautiful hair--and your eyes."

Touching his fingers to the ends of his hair, surprised by how greatly the loss of his shimmering gold mane affected him, Samael forced a smile to curl his lips. "Samael is dead. God murdered him on the battlefield in Heaven."

To their bewildered expressions, he explained, "I am Lucifer Morningstar." He paused to allow each fallen angel to process this new information. Lucifer meant 'Bringer of Light' -- something he still intended to do, and it was his own greatest creation, the morning star that chased away the night.

God could not take that from him. His accomplishments belonged to him and him alone.

God had wanted him to obey and his rebellion proved he was capable of freewill. God had taken his light and Lucifer fought back, holding on tight to what he could until God himself relented.

The loneliness lingered, but with it was a sense of dignity as he declared, "Where Samael brought the light to Heaven, I will bring it to this…" He trailed off taking in his desolate surroundings before a name came to him. "Hell."

And so it went for a couple of years. Lucifer Morningstar honed his ability and lit Hell with his broken and defective stars, each one slightly larger and brighter than the last as he practiced. The fallen angels banded together, using whatever traces of power that sparked between them. Lucifer was by far the strongest, but what they were able to scrape together provided just enough diversity to broaden their work. 

During those rough times, some questioned their decision to follow Lucifer. Needing to keep them united, and past the point of caring what others thought of him, he ruled with a hard hand. Fear became just as good as loyalty if it meant cooperation. To manage the sadness of God’s rejection, Lucifer found cause for celebration in everything and kept himself in the center of it all, never allowing himself to suffer a moment alone. The noise of such company would distract him from the howling hole in his heart. To fight the cold he’d been burdened with, he kept the fires burning hot in Hell.

Some say that during the war, Samael had transformed into a great dragon to defeat God. This testimony is untrue. Samael had been so proud of his form at that time, so certain of his strength and prowess that he fought his brothers as himself. His interest in shape shifting had not occurred until after, when he had become Lucifer and loathed the lack of his golden locks. Staring at his glacial eyes in the mirror and despising them for the constant reminder they were due to the absence of God, Lucifer first attempted to modify his form. 

In the beginning, it had been a fruitless endeavor until suddenly one day, it was not. Streaks of gold spilled over the stringy black mop of hair he was burdened with, the blue of his eyes softening to a mossy green for mere econds before returning back to normal. With more practice he could make more drastic changes and hold them for much longer. It had not been permanent, as the moment he relaxed he relapsed back into his damned form again. Frustrated, Lucifer remembered the ravens God had created to fly over the Garden of Eden and focused his attention on his wings, changing them into the likeness of the raven. 

He laughed at that, seeing now that his transformations could extend past his own species if he so desired. When he shared this new found talent with the other angels, even the most resistive of angels took a knee and bowed before him, no longer able to deny his dominance. To ensure their submission, he would take the form of his brothers and invade their privacy. He only had to burn two to ashes before no one dared speak against him even in the most whispered voices. 

At times, when he was all alone and far from prying eyes, Lucifer wondered about Heaven, his Hell, and God’s precious Earth. He wondered how they were connected--_ if _ they were connected. How might one travel from one to the other? Curious, he began to explore his exile, finding all the edges. 

One day, as he pressed upon one in particular, he heard a woman’s voice screaming his name. They were Lilith’s anguished cries, beseeching him. “Samael! Samael, please! Won’t you help me?”

This place was Earth. Looking past her, he knew immediately that she was no longer in the Garden of Eden. Was she lost? How perfect it would be if one of God’s favorite creations was in peril. Unable to resist the opportunity to find out, Lucifer pressed harder on the thick gossamer veil that lay between them. Slowly and met with great resistance, he was able to step through to the other side. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up and he knew instantly that his visits to this world needed to be short. With his wings and abilities, he did not belong here and the universe--God, had a way of obliterating those who did not belong. 

When he appeared before her, she gaped at his dark hair and crystal eyes. “Samael?” 

“Not anymore.” Even he did not recognize his own voice anymore. “You’re not in Eden.” 

Her eyes narrowed and she shook with rage as she exclaimed, “I was cast out!” 

How curious. Perhaps she was not a favorite anymore. It seemed he was not as alone as he thought. “For?” 

“Mating,” she said simply, as if that was enough to explain anything. 

Guessing, Lucifer asked, “I take it Adam was disinterested?” 

Pursing her lips she hissed, “No. He wanted to mate with me in only his way.” 

Lucifer paused to consider this. When God had shown him his new creations, he had explained mating and reproduction. It was this unique quality that made them so revered. The great creator had finally made something that could go on to create life entirely on its own. “Does it matter?” He asked, truly not knowing that it should--seeds still fertilized, regardless of the manner in which they were planted.

Her arms crossed over her bare breasts as she smiled. “Oh yes. It feels different, inside. Sometimes it can feel as good as when God gives you his warmth.” 

That got Lucifer’s attention. God’s warmth had been the best feeling he had ever had, and for her to liken mating to that--well, that interested him greatly. His gaze slid down to the apex of her thighs and the thatch of hair that covered her. Could the secret to such contentment lay in simple anatomy? Remembering Adam’s form, Lucifer considered what changes he would need to undergo to engage in such an act. 

Lilith’s voice hardened as she explained her grievance, “Adam only cared how it felt for him.” 

“And you were cast out for his selfishness?” Lucifer found that hard to believe. It had taken a war for him to be exiled. Simply arguing with Adam could not possibly be enough to warrant her expulsion. Except that it was Adam, God’s favorite toy. Anything Adam wanted, he would most certainly get. “Was it Adam? Did he have you thrown out?” 

“I left,” she admitted, her eyes meeting his. “It was not forever, only then. When I was angry. When I came back, a bitter cold surrounded me and I suddenly knew I could not return. I was not allowed.” 

A sliver of sympathy wedged itself into his heart. “Sounds like something our Almighty would do.”

“He made Adam a new mate--called her his ‘Soulmate.’ He let me see that she was created from a part of him and therefore their souls are linked. She will obey him and he will find no fault with her.” She shook as she spoke, as much from emotion as from the cold and emptiness she was now relegated to. 

Lucifer knew the feeling--the despair and hatred. 

“God is giving all of mankind soulmates,” she said, breaking him from his thoughts. “He let me see that is how he plans to offer harmony to humans.”

How very like God to gift his favorite creation with such love. Clenching his jaw, Lucifer forced his voice to steady as he said, “Those poor humans. There goes their free will. There will be no room for it if he is fating such things as simple as mating.”

Lilith huffed. 

“One would assume he has no plans to create you a mate?” Lucifer asked, curious himself. 

Her head shook. “I am not welcome in Eden. Not welcome with man.” A sob escaped her and her body moved with emotion. 

Lucifer’s eyes were drawn to her features, particularly the curve of her breasts. For the first time allowing himself to appreciate its purpose, Lucifer grinned and appealed to her, “Who wants a mate who snivels at their feet? With no thought of their own?” What God wanted that from his son, no less? He kept that bitter thought to himself as he added, “If that is what a soulmate is, then the humans can keep it.”

“I am human,” she reminded him, a small smile creeping onto her lips and lifting her cheeks. She was quite pretty when she smiled. 

It should have been strange to notice such a thing. However, the knowledge that her body somehow held the potential to make him feel as if he still had God, he accepted such observation easily. He smiled as he leaned into her and whispered, “I remember.” 

Color rose high in her cheeks and he watched as her nipples constricted. How curious. 

“The question is, what do you plan to do about it?” 

Her brow furrowed in confusion. “I do not understand, Samael.” 

Reaching out, he gently gripped her shoulders and softened his voice to correct and explain. “I go by Lucifer now. Since God turned his back on me, I have remade myself, Lilith. What will you do?” 

Silently, her eyes searched his for answer. Taking a tentative step forward, her body was mere inches from his. 

She was warm--not like God, but with promise. “You called for me, Lilith.”

She nodded. “I knew you too had been cast out. Gabriel told me.” 

Gabriel. 

Of course. 

When God had demanded his angels love his humans, he allowed them to visit the Garden of Eden. Each angel had gone at least once, some more so. Gabriel was eager to please his creator and made his visits to Eden a regular occurrence. It made sense that he would allow what occurred in Heaven to become known to this mortal. 

“And you needed my aid,” he finished for her. 

“Please, Sa-” she stopped herself. “_ Lucifer _.”

A twinge deep in his gut reminded him that he had overstayed his welcome in this realm and that he was not yet strong enough to insist on a longer visit. “Come with me, so we might discuss terms.” 

“Terms?” Lilith looked around them. “Come with you to where?” 

“Hell.” His wings extended and shook against the sudden discomfort he felt. 

She gasped as she took in his wingspan. Apparently Gabriel had not bothered to show her how resplendent they were. Lucifer would have appreciated her reaction much more if he had not felt so unnerved. 

“Can a mortal live in Hell?” 

Seeing no need to lie to her, he admitted, “I am uncertain. If not live, then at least perhaps, _ exist _.”

She took a step back and shook her head. “I do not know if this is best.”

He tensed. “Would you like my assistance or not?” 

“Can you not help me here?” She challenged, her voice rising.

This was why she had been discarded. For this exact quality. Rather than feel frustrated by it, Lucifer found amusement in it. If this was what God disliked in the woman, then Lucifer was determined he would cherish it. 

“Are you laughing at me?” She growled, filled with fight. 

Inspecting her closely, Lucifer thought her fight was meant more for another than he, and used that to his advantage. “I am leaving, Lilith. My invitation to Hell stands. I do not know if your mortal form can survive it or not, but I will allow the decision of whether or not you take such risk to be yours and yours alone.” He paused, eyeing her as the words turned in her brain. “Which, I would venture to guess, the mere prospect of _ choice _is a lot more than Adam or God, or Gabriel, or any other celestial being has ever done for you.”

Tears welled in her eyes as she looked up at him. Her response came on a gasp, “_ Yes _.”

She clung to him then, fear pressing her tightly against him. He locked his arms around her small, trembling form and walked them back through the veil. Lucifer was pleasantly surprised when she survived the journey. 

Lifting her head from his chest, Lilith stared at all the stars in the sky with wonder. “There are so many of them--more than in Eden.” 

Lucifer grinned at her naivety. Not knowing just how imperfect these stars were, she was easy to amaze. “It pleases me that you enjoy them.” 

She smiled, pulling from him. “It is warm here, Lucifer. How can it be so warm here?” 

Feeling the loss of her skin against his, Lucifer scowled. “God is not the only one who can create warmth and light.” 

She gave him a curious look as she asked, “You spoke of terms?” 

He appreciated her direct nature, not letting details slip her mind, however convenient it would be for her to do so. “You sought my aid--for what purpose?” 

Her brow furrowed deeper as her expression changed from curiosity to anger. “For revenge.” 

Revenge. 

Lucifer laughed, surprised that a mortal would desire such a thing. Were they not inherently good in nature? Then again, had he not been the same at one time? The pain of rejection opened up all sorts of possibilities. 

Scowling at his amusement, Lilith said, “I want Adam to suffer for the way he closed his heart to me and so easily replaced me with another. For denying me offspring.”

The pain in her voice quaked through Lucifer as he understood her agony. Lilith was created to pair with Adam, to birth his brood and populate the garden. Where Lucifer’s purpose had been to bring the light, Lilith’s was to create life. Unlike Lucifer, her purpose was dependent upon another and that other had let her down. Gritting his teeth in an anger he felt on her behalf, Lucifer promised, “You shall have your revenge.” 

“And you, Lucifer?” She swallowed back her heartache. “What do you wish in return?” 

His lips spread in a triumphant grin. “You,” he replied. “I wish to give you the children you desire, Lilith.”

“You wish to, _ mate _?” She asked in disbelief. “But you can not. Gabriel said your kind can not.” 

Lucifer took her hand in his and let her feel how he had changed to accommodate her. “I am unlike other angels in that I can modify my form to suit my needs. Or, rather--yours.”

She was hesitant at first. A war of emotions raged across her face. Something was holding her back, some feeling she had. Lucifer leaned forward and pressed a kiss to silence whatever protests her heart made. She no longer belonged to Adam, and therefore he could see no reason for her to remain loyal to anyone. He might have thought there was another that held her heart if he did not know for certain that Adam was the only man on Earth. Gently breaking the kiss, he ran his lips over hers as he whispered, “It is an even trade.”

It was with that quiet promise that Lilith finally moaned her resignation in his mouth and ground her hips against his. Days later, after Lucifer had felt the warm Lilith spoke of--many times, they lay in a loose embrace and stared up at his stars. Mating was not truly as pleasurable as feeling God’s warmth, but it had proven to feel better than anything else Lucifer had experienced in this realm so he had no intention of stopping. Lilith drew lazy patterns on his chest with her finger, and he allowed it as he considered how pathetic Adam was for not appreciating what pleasure the woman had to offer. Lilith was not his mate, or even his lover, but Lucifer felt she was formidable enough. “I am considering your revenge. Tell me more about this, Eve.” 

Lilith tensed in his arms as she growled, “She is dimwitted.”

“Excellent,” he purred. 

“What are you thinking?” 

Reaching for her breast, Lucifer laughed. “If Adam’s mate lacks intelligence, let us help her expand her mind.” 

Lilith slapped his hand away. “I do not wish to _ help _her, only make him suffer.”

Lucifer touched a finger to the center of her forehead and explained. “You possess a brain and Adam found that so troublesome that God ensured his next mate lacked one.”

Slowly, she leaned back, listening much more intently now. 

“I know of a tree.” 

He spoke of the tree of knowledge and what eating its fruit would both give Eve and take away from Adam. Lifting his hand in the air, snake scales rippled down his arm. He would take this form to tempt Eve toward the fruit knowing it would lead to God’s wrath.

If he had fallen from God’s grace, he would ensure that so too would man. 

  
  
  
  



	5. Don't Say Thank You

**Presently,**

Gabby had just gotten off work and had literally run to her bathroom with a desperate need to answer Mother Nature’s call. Coming off the night shift was brutal enough, made only worse with the sunrise shining through her bathroom window to blind her while she peed. If the money wasn’t so good, she wouldn’t have worked graveyard. Unfortunately for her, people tipped better when they were too drunk to remember what they were doing, and men tipped even more when they could barely stand--hoping to grab one last ass before they passed out. 

Finishing her business, Gabby kicked her skirt to the corner of the bathroom and peeled off the skin-tight vest and bustier she was forced to wear by way of uniform. Grabbing a comfortable cotton tank top off the shelf, she shrugged it on before she leaned into the mirror and took her contact out. Gabby had perfect twenty-twenty vision, but had long ago had enough of the gawking people were prone to. 

Lucifer could change his appearance, and had done so many times, probably more than she was even aware of. Now that she knew him--truly knew him, he kept the same hair color and eyes, though in the past he would visit her under many guises. 

His most common transformation was his eyes. He often turned the brown one blue to give him a matching set, letting his heterochromia only show when they were alone. It might have been considered an intimate gesture on his part to save his true self only for her--or perhaps shame at not wanting the world to see such an undesirable quality as two different eyes. Instead of seeing it as either, Gabby was simply jealous. Peeling an unnecessary contact off her eyeball each night was inconvenient to say the least. 

It was entirely purposeful that while he tended to hide his eyes with blue, she hid hers with brown. She would do anything she could to put more distance between them, wanting to share nothing in common. 

Low voices sounded in her apartment, freezing her in place. The walls were paper-thin, and she often heard people in the other apartments, but these sounded too clear to be muffled by neighboring walls. Someone--or a couple of someones were actually in her apartment. Her gun was in her bag, hanging on the hook with her coat--fat load of good that did her. Eyeing her surroundings, Gabby looked for anything she could defend herself with. 

"Come on out, Gabby. We know you're there," a male voice said. 

Another voice added, "It's worse when we gotta go searchin'." 

The first laughed. "Maybe not for her. She doesn't have anything worth shit in this dump."

Forcing herself to stay calm and keep a cool head, Gabby stepped out into the hallway. Once out, she rested a hand on the wall to brace herself as she silently tiptoed toward them. If she could see where they were in relation to her coat hook, she just might have a chance. 

Four steps forward--every muscle in her body drawn tight and tense to fight-or-flight her way out of the situation, Gabby shrieked when a head popped around the corner.

He had dirty blond hair, shorter on the sides and unkempt on the top. His neck was too wide to button the collar of his shirt, a thin gold chain peeked out and glinted in the light, the pendant tucked in his shirt. “There you are,” he said, his lips spreading into a toothy grin. 

Rocco.

He was one of Kenny’s men. Gabby heaved a sigh, letting her heart calm as she fixed a scowl on her face. “Fuck off, Rocco.” 

“Aww, Gabby. Is that any way to greet a friend?” He mocked.

With false bravado, she lifted her chin and trudged past him. “I’m not in the mood to shoot the shit. Say your piece and get out.” 

Rocco’s business associate, Jake, remained quiet in her living room. Gabby had caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye as she passed by, and forced herself not to react. She had seen him around Kenny’s place enough times to know that out of the two of them, Rocco had the mouth and Jake had the brain. That made him much more of a threat, one she was even more vulnerable to now that she was caught alone. 

“Kenny wants his money,” Rocco said as he walked behind her. 

Fighting the urge to run, Gabby forced her legs to slow as she entered her tiny kitchen. She needed to be be brave. “And he’ll get it. I still have time.” She opened the door to her freezer, glancing through her hair to see Jake had silently edged his way into her kitchen too. 

Rocco spoke as she grabbed the half-finished bottle of vodka she had in the freezer. “Kenny doesn’t think you can come up with the cash. He wants a deposit.”

“A deposit?” She asked, her jaw dropping. That had not been part of their agreement. 

Jake cleared his throat before speaking, “Proof you intend to pay.” 

As if she didn’t know what they meant. “Yeah, no shit sherlock.”

Rocco’s meaty hand caught her around the arm, and yanked her toward him. “You should learn some manners.” 

Holding her breath to avoid the stench of garlic and onions, Gabby tried to pull away. “I don’t remember you knocking.” 

Rocco laughed. “Feisty.” 

“She usually is,” Jake said, stepping closer. Pulling out a knife, he raised it toward her cheek. “Now, what do you have of value?” 

Had any other man said that, it would have given her major creep-vibes, but Jake had always been about business. The only thing that turned that man’s head was money--how to get it and how to keep it. 

“Kenny will get his money,” she repeated because Rocco’s grip was tightening and Jake was not backing up. 

“And we’re going to make sure of it,” Rocco said in her ear. “Now be a good girl, Gabby, and give us something to bring back.” 

_ Gabriel _. The name had been silent on her tongue, but uttered all the same.

The tip of the blade touched her cheek and fear shot icicles through her veins. “_ Gabriel _,” she whispered.

Jake gripped her chin with his free hand and turned her to look at him. “What was that?” 

Too scared to move, lest she lose an eye, she shut them and screamed, “GABRIEL!”

“Gabriel?” Kenny’s goons looked at each other. “Who the fuck is that?”

A slight breeze brushed over Gabby’s cheek and she knew they were no longer alone. She did not have to open her eyes to know who joined them, however, feeling _ his _presence. His unique scent filled the air and caressed her skin. 

“A useless dolt.” Lucifer answered from behind them. His voice was smooth and cool--a stark contrast to the fury that radiated in the blistering heat that surrounded him. 

“What the?” Rocco turned his head, Jake following suit. 

Before their eyes could register the devil before them, Lucifer reached out and smashed their skulls together with as much force as a mack truck. The sound of bone crunching and soft tissues squishing was sickening, not to mention the gore that splashed over her. 

Gabby gasped, blinking the blood and cartilage bits out of her eyes as she watched their bodies drop limp to the floor around her. Before she could move a muscle, Lucifer was on her, crushing her body against his. “_ Mate _,” he growled, one hand holding the nape of her neck as the other ghosted over her face taking stock. 

Too overcome by the raw power that rolled off of him, and the concern in his eyes, Gabby lacked any witty or biting response. “I’m alright,” she assured him.

The blue in one of his eyes faded to brown as he stared into hers, letting her see all of him. “Hardly,” he gently disagreed.

She would have offered a rebuttal if she weren’t covered in forensic evidence--and if his voice had not sounded so rough with worry. It was not like Lucifer to allow a hair out of place, though she had that effect on him--and she knew it. It used to be charming--when he was Sam, then it was gratifying when she cursed him as Satan, and now… Now, Gabby did not know what it was. 

Ducking her head to avoid the truth in his eyes, she spoke down to their feet. “I’m not injured. Just gross.” 

“Let me fix that.” His long fingers stroked her jaw, gently coaxing her to face him again.

Too exhausted to offer any resistance, Gabby relented. All the gore and grime that covered her dissolved as she turned back to him. “Whoa,” she gasped, bringing a hand up between them to inspect it. She was clean, from head to toe.

“Mm,” he rumbled, covering her hand with his. 

Gabby’s heart squeezed as she stared at their joined hands--hers fitting so perfectly in his. “Luce…” She started to protest, and completely lost her nerve when she felt his nose nudge the side of hers, his breath against her lips. 

So close. 

Her heart beat its mutiny in the confines of her chest, forcing it to rise against their hands and press into his. His lips tickled hers, not insisting or teasing--but instead, pining. He was restraining himself, waiting for her to allow him. 

Lucifer--the devil himself--was seeking permission for a kiss. Considering his reputation, it seemed strange for him to bother with such courtesy. And yet, it was that very careful consideration that attracted her to him all the more. Gabby’s eyes fluttered shut, remembering how his lips felt against hers. He had a spicy taste that tingled her tongue and fed addiction. The way he always cradled the back of her head and let his thumbs massage her neck and jaw, made her feel like they were the only two people in existence. 

That had been before.

When they were in love. He was just a guy and she was just a girl. Not soulmates. Not damned. 

So much had happened since then. Things that could never, ever be taken back. Lucifer had gouged out her heart, and in her anguish, she bared her claws and struck back. There was nothing left between them now but emptiness and hatred. 

And lust. 

A stupid physical response to proximity. 

Nothing else. 

Her hand in his pressed forward against his chest, pushing him away. This kiss was wrong. It would not taste or feel the same and she would be left feeling only shame for her momentary lapse in judgement. 

Though his brows were furrowed in curiosity, she could see the hurt in his eyes. So close. “Mate?” 

“_ No _,” she breathed, sliding out of his grasp. 

His eyes fired and his jaw tightened as he clutched at her, trying to catch her. “Gabrielle!” 

She moved at a quick and determined pace, twisting her arm out of his reach. “I said no!”

He could have caught her if he had set his mind to it, but he ceased his pursuit at her insistence. Gabby was not sure whether or not she should be grateful that he had decided to respect her wishes. Even now she felt his pull, the need to be in his arms again. Fighting it went against nature, but giving in went against her being. 

The room was silent but for the sound of her own breathing. 

Needing to put herself back together, Gabby began to move. Not sure where she was going or what she was doing, she just needed to keep moving. Ignoring the bodies on the floor, she started opening up cupboard after cupboard, as if in search of something--all the while feeling his eyes track her like a predator to prey. 

“Looking for what we lost?” His words dripped with resentment. “Doubt you’ll find it in there.”

She drew a deep breath, bracing herself against the pain of reopened wounds. Tapping her rage was as much her defense as sarcasm was his. “You can’t lose something you never had.”

He laughed. It was faint and sick and stung the back of her eyes with tears she would not allow herself to shed. “We had each other. We had fate.”

“Yeah, well…” She pulled a bowl out of the cupboard, just so she would not leave empty handed, and set it on the counter. “The feelings weren’t mutual.”

“Liar.”

Yes, she was.

And so was he.

“You can leave now,” she said, grabbing a box of cereal and pouring it in the bowl. She knew he would not leave until he was ready, but she needed to say it so that later she could comfort herself with the knowledge that she had fought a good fight.

Lucifer ran a hand through his hair, his lips pursing. “Now that I’ve served my purpose? Don’t say thank you, or anything.” His tone biting as he added, “I wouldn’t dream of troubling you.” 

“If you regret saving me, you are welcome not to next time,” she quipped back, falling back into their rhythm. 

Gabby flinched when he suddenly slammed his fist on the counter. Ignoring the way she jumped, he growled, “There would not be a ‘next time’ if you would stop associating with riffraff!” 

Hating that she allowed herself to be intimidated by him, she roared back, “I wouldn’t have to if you hadn’t left me penniless when you murdered my parents!” 

Lucifer stilled at that. The anger that had been boiling and bubbling over slowed down to a simmer as he stared back at her. 

There it was--the first of many nails in the coffin, their relationship had been buried in.

He did not bother to apologize, having done so already many times. Instead, he lowered his voice, softening. “Allow me to provide for you.”

Gabby clenched her fists. If she told him once, she had told him a thousand times that him keeping her was not the same as having her. 

Seeing the anger in her eyes, he beseeched, “You would want for nothing.”

There were a million things she could have said in retaliation, and perhaps it was because she already had before that she no longer had the energy to now. Gabby only shook her head before reaching in the fridge to pull the milk out. 

Her lack of response nettled him and he stalked around the counter, grabbing the milk from her hands. She thought for certain that he would throw it across her tiny kitchen, or set it down on the counter and shake her. He did neither of those things, only turned to her bowl of cereal and began pouring it as he fumed. “I have been patient.”

“Stop.” 

“I waited for you.”

“You’re doing it wrong!” She argued because it was easier to bicker about cereal than it was listening to how he felt.

“No, I’m not,” he argued back. “You like minimal milk, but hate dry cereal.”

She watched him lift her spoon and tap down the sides of the bowl, insisting that each bit of cereal get wet with milk, and her jaw dropped. He was one-hundred percent right. It was a fine balance, one that she was surprised he knew about.

Ignoring her astonishment, he grumbled, “I told you the truth--when I could have so easily taken you without all the trouble of such honesty.” Whirling around, he pushed the bowl into her hands. His eyes boring into hers as he grit through his teeth, “I gave you choice.”

Gripping the bowl, she gulped. “Yeah, you did.” It had been the only honorable thing he had ever done, and it had been for her. Quelling the affection that stirred inside, Gabby made herself stare into his pupils as she said, “And I didn’t choose you.”

He blinked. 

Slowly, the wheels in his head turned, processing. Just as he opened his mouth to respond, there was a change in the air, signalling Gabriel’s arrival. He smelled of rainy days and felt like deja vu, though that could be because she had known him her whole life--since before she could talk or walk. 

Gabriel had just always been there. Except for this evening--when she needed him the most. 

“You’re a little too late,” Lucifer said to the air beside him. 

Where Lucifer faded in and out of view, Gabriel’s transitions were much more abrupt. One minute he was not there, and the next he was. He was a tall brunette with broad shoulders, though he often slouched modestly, helping him to look much smaller than he was. His eyes were a soft cobalt blue that were lively enough even though they lacked the spark Lucifer’s had. Gabby often times noted their differences, wondering how it was that Lucifer was nothing short of dazzling while Gabriel by contrast, often appeared in various novelty t-shirts, jeans, and the same beat up pair of chuck taylors. 

Gabriel turned to Gabby, looking her over. Then he turned to Lucifer and cocked his head, appraising him as well. Finally, he surveyed the carnage behind him. “I disagree,” he said, turning back to smile at Lucifer as one would an old friend. “Some things are best not to be too early for.” 

“And just what the hell does that mean?” Gabby growled, shaking her spoon at him. 

Lucifer was quick to answer. “It means he’s an idiot.”

Gabriel walked around the counter, his sneakers squeaking on the cheap linoleum as he did. “Here, let me,” he said as he took the bowl of cereal from her. 

Gabby gaped at him. “Excuse me?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “What? You’re not hungry.” 

She really wasn’t. She had only grabbed it to give her hands something to do.

Damn him for knowing that. 

Damn him for knowing that, and somehow not knowing that she was in trouble a half an hour ago.

Lucifer raised a brow at her and she ignored it, staying focused on Gabriel. “You can go back to whatever it was you were doing.” _ That was more important than saving my bacon, _ she thought.

Gabriel had a mouth full of Lucky Charms when he pointed at himself with another full spoonful in a ‘_ Who, me? _’ gesture. 

“Yes, please feel free to leave,” Lucifer helpfully suggested, leaning against the counter, making himself just as at home.

Aggravated by the way they settled in, Gabby growled, “Both of you!”

“Some manners would be nice,” Gabriel chastised between bites. 

“So would some gratitude,” Lucifer added, rolling his eyes over to Rocco and Jake’s bodies.

Reaching her limit, Gabby yelled a small string of obscenities at the top of her lungs.

“Hey! Pipe down over there!” Mrs. Newcomb next door hollered through the wall, banging her cane for emphasis. 

Gabriel gave a mumbled, “Don’t know what her problem is. It’s not daytime, no one’s keeping her awake.”

“No,” Gabby sighed. “But you’re both keeping me awake.”

“I was wondering why you were standing around in your underwear,” Gabriel said, bringing the bowl to his lips. 

It was not as if Lucifer had not noticed her bare legs before, especially when they were plastered against each other in a moment of indiscretion. Though, he made it a point to look down now and let her feel his eyes rove over her. She tried not to squirm, reminding herself that he had seen her naked many times, and that there was strength in not caring. 

Lucifer ran his finger over the counter top, dimples appearing as he offered, “Would you like me to tuck you in?” 

Gabriel scoffed. “So obvious.” 

“Yes, I am.” Lucifer easily agreed, wetting his lips. “I have nothing to hide from my mate. Not anymore.”

Gabby fought against the magnetic pull that drew her toward him. She used to wonder if he was responsible for it, trying to force her to his side. He certainly had enough power to do something of that nature. The idea of it only made her despise him more. That was, until she noticed him succumb to the same feeling. He was clearly fighting the urge to stand near and was just as certainly losing that battle. She knew then that it was something they both suffered. 

Whatever spell they were under broke at the sound of the bowl crashing into her sink. Like a spoiled child, only too happy to ruin a moment between his parents, Gabriel smiled at her. “That definitely hit the spot. But it needed more milk.”

Perhaps she should have thanked him for the interruption.

Without any further ado, he walked past her. Gabby’s eyes bugged out as he neared the door. “Where are you going?” 

Gabriel shrugged. “Leaving, like you asked.”

“Thank you,” Lucifer said. 

Gabby shot him a glare and then huffed, “Fine, eat and run. You’re a ton of help.”

Gabriel pointed down to the bodies. “Well, it’s really his mess to clean. Isn’t it?”

Lucifer gave a martyred sigh and then snapped his fingers. Rocco and Jake were gone, as well as any spec of evidence that they had ever been there. Gabriel nodded his approval and then all of a sudden he too was gone.

“So much for using the door,” Gabby groaned. 

“You do look tired,” Lucifer said, the humor leaving his expression. “Let’s lay down.”

“Ha-ha.” 

She blinked and he was before her again, inches away. “You used to enjoy falling asleep in my arms.” 

No. 

She used to enjoy falling asleep in _ Sam’s _ arms.

“It’s getting to be a habit,” she complained. 

He reached for her hand and she allowed it. “What is?” He asked, lacing his fingers between hers.

Gabby bit the inside of her cheek before admitting, “You come over and someone dies.”

“To protect you,” he appealed. 

She thought of the John Doe she had taken home the week before. “Not always.” 

His thumb ran over her knuckles, his voice a gentle pur as he said, “I won’t apologize for that. Those men don’t deserve you.” 

Gabby sighed, tired by their same old dance. How many times did he make this argument, and how many times did she have to question him. “Neither do you.”

“God seems to think otherwise,” he countered, changing the game. Apparently, he was growing tired too. He probably would not have been referring to the punishment God gave him otherwise. It was a sore spot for Gabby because of how unfair it was. Lucifer had been bad and he was punished for it, but what had she done? She simply existed and that seemed to be enough. Ripping her hand from his, she crossed her arms and said, “Thank you.”

“What?” 

He had wanted her gratitude and it was not like her to grant it. Perhaps if she gave him that, he would leave her alone and let her find some peace. “For saving me tonight. Thank you.”

He shook his head, “Don’t…”

Don’t shut down. Don’t close up. Don’t end this. 

Don’t say thank you.

"_Stardust?_"

She stiffened at that. Her pupils turned to pinpricks as every muscle in her body tensed, bracing her from the offense. "Don't you dare," she warned. He looked hurt at her venom. Was he really that clueless that he dared use that name against her? Could he truly be surprised by her response? Oh well if he was. Saying that name was playing dirty, but what more did she expect from the devil himself? Repeating herself, Gabby growled through her teeth, "Don't you ever call me that again. You lost the right." 

"Then I will earn it back."

She couldn't stomach another moment in his presence. His unwavering determination to make right what could never be, made her skin crawl. It was with every bit of strength she had left that she lifted her chin and decided not to react. The devil fed off of passion and no one knew that better than she. Gabby turned for her bedroom, forcing her voice to sound dismissive, she called over her shoulder, “Good night, Luce.”

Too chicken shit to face him, she was half way down the hall before she finally felt him leave. It was disconcerting to discover that his absence was as much a bitter cold against her back, as it was a relief. 


	6. Honor Is A Gift

**Seven Years Ago**

Gabby felt her eyelid stick to itself and swallowed a healthy dose of panic as she closed her eyes and lifted her brows to unstick them. Silently freaking out over who might have noticed, she looked all around her. Thankfully, the party was in full swing and no one seemed to care about her little makeup-mishap. 

Cosmo magazine had said putting lipstick on your eyelids beneath some shadow gave girls an ethereal glow that men ‘craved.’ Putting something made for your lips on your eyes seemed odd to Gabby, but the idea of Todd _ craving _her sold her on the idea. At sixteen, most girls had already popped their cherries, so it stood to reason that her time had definitely come. 

It had taken longer for Gabby to find the right person, and her friends constantly told her she was too picky. After all, it was ‘just a hymen.’ Yet breaking something that could never be repaired seemed like such a commitment to her. It was important to make the right choice. 

Boys had been noticing her since her first training bra--as Gabriel was quick to frown about, but in her heart she was still that freak from bible camp. Her eyes were God’s fuckup and her hair a blazing advertisement to her lack of a soul--regardless of what that priest had said. He was probably just trying to be nice to the poor little misfit. 

Although, telling a story like that was hardly _ nice _. She had nightmares of wedding Satan ever since. She never had learned the father’s name, but whoever he was, he should have seriously rethought his decision to work with children. 

“This party is dying down, and I’m not ready to cool off,” Todd said, apparently not noticing her eyelid crisis either. They had only been there a couple of hours, and it seemed like it would be quite a while before things began _ dying down _. There was a loud cheer from the next room over, where a game of beer pong had drawn a crowd. As much as Gabby wanted to check it out, she relished Todd’s attention too much to peel herself away. He spent the entire party with one arm around her and his other hand holding a solo cup filled with jungle juice. Running his lips over her ear, he said, “Tell me you’re hot too.”

At the tickle of his soft lips, a wave of heat hit her between the legs. “_ Yeah _,” she panted and then instantly regretted it. God, could she have sounded more desperate?

“Good.” His hand sank a little lower on her hip, gripping the top of her ass as he kissed her cheek. “Let’s get out of here.” The alcohol on his breath singed her nostrils and had her searching his eyes to see them dilated and heavy-lidded. 

“You okay to drive?” She asked as they neared the door. 

He downed his drink and handed his empty cup to a freshman. “Yeah, why?” 

The way he asked made her feel stupid for questioning him. “Uh, your eyes...they look…” 

“Hungry?” He asked and then he let his hand slide down a little further for the whole world to see. “It’s cause I _ need _you, babe.”

“Need me?” She naively asked. 

His fingers dug in, his lips sloppy on her jaw. “Oh, yeah. You been savin’ it for me. Haven’t you?”

Gabby’s stomach jumped, surprised by how blatant he was being. Todd was a typical guy, making it well known that he was ready whenever she was, but he had never pressured her before. Was he pressuring her now? Or just being a horny guy who would back down if she said no? 

The front door opened and Gabby gave one last look around her, searching the crowd to gage the situation. No one gave any sign that Todd was acting inappropriately, so she chalked the sick feeling in her gut up to nerves. 

She half expected to see Gabriel crossing his arms over his chest as he cast her a disapproving look. As promised, however, he was nowhere in sight. He had wanted to come, citing beer pong as his favorite sport, but she forbid him from attending. The last thing she needed was for him to embarrass her in front of everyone--she already did a great job of that all on her own. 

“Tell me, baby,” Todd said as he walked her across the driveway to his mom’s Jeep. “Tell me that _ burnin’ bush _ is mine tonight.” 

“Uh-” Gabby tensed. 

It was _ technically _his. They were exclusive, after all, and she had not had sex with anyone else. Whenever she felt aroused, she fantasized about him. Well, him and her dishy Scottish neighbor, but that was hardly the point. He was a grown man in his thirties with a swoon-worthy accent and she had been crushing on him since he moved in three years prior. The man was sexy and mature and way out of her league. Besides, she doubted--if they sold it in Scotland--that he even owned a copy of “Lolita," let alone identified with it. 

No.

Her stud-muffin neighbor was out and Todd was in. It was Todd that she pictured prom with and shaved her bikini lines for, therefore it was Todd that held the most claim to her virginity. 

Still, a nagging feeling deep down kept forcing her to ask herself if that were the case, then why did it feel so awkward whenever he made a move? 

Was it her? Because virgins were awkward?

Or was it because Todd called her ‘babe’ like it was written on her birth certificate and kept insisting she was pretty 'even with the eyes.' He always had a tight hold on her, never letting her leave his palm, which became more and more of an annoyance as she tried to do things like eat lunch and get books out of her locker. Her mother had always warned her about possessive men, and yet his hands on her did not feel as if they were owning. They were greedy alright--maybe even a little needy, but they merely _ wanted _ and she got the distinct impression that once they _ had _, they would ease up. 

At least that was the thought she nurtured miles down the road as she lay pinned beneath him in the back seat, his hand on her thigh sliding up her skirt. His mouth on her neck trailed kisses down into her cleavage until he caught her bra in his teeth and grinned up at her.

Gabby laughed at how silly he looked, and at how crazy she felt in that moment. Her nipples tight against the satin material, needing him to toy with them, to tease and pluck and show her how good they could feel. Instead, he abandoned them for her lips, completely unaware as to how disappointed he had left them. 

He gripped her hips and she forgot entirely about the ache in her breasts, finding hope in the way he held her with such strong hands. There was not enough room in the Jeep to press kisses over her hip bones, and she was not sure that he would if there were, but her hips lifted up off the seat begging for it regardless. 

Her leg literally twitched when he cupped her over her panties and chuckled at the dampened center. Gabby’s cheeks flushed so severely in her mortification, that the blush creeped down her neck and settled in splotches over her chest. Todd was quick to soothe her worry however, grinning as he said, "You're ready for me, babe."

"I am?" She asked and then wanted to open the car door and slink away. What girl didn’t know her own body?

His hands went for his belt buckle and she was struck with the sudden realization that she had never seen a penis in real life before. Shit, shit, shit. What if it was ugly? What if he wanted her to kiss it? Todd was handsome enough, but she had heard that dicks could look weird, and their balls--oh lord.

Nerves had her downright trembling. 

“You cold, babe?” He asked, unzipping his fly.

“Uh-huh,” she lied and then closed her eyes to save herself the view. 

Todd leaned in, pressing another kiss to her lips. “I’ll keep you warm.”

Gabby’s eyes opened wide as she felt his hard length rest over her panties, the naked tip touching her belly. Lined up just so and laying on her, she was surprised to find it gave her pleasure. His mouth was hot on her ear again, “Tell me you want me.” He ground his erection into her. “Let me.”

She focused her gaze over his shoulder to the dome light on the roof of the car as she considered his request. She was new to this whole sex thing, but every time she went right, he went left. That did not seem right. Unless of course, he was teasing her. She wondered if maybe that just what sex was like? Constantly coming close to perfect--intentionally or not, but settling for something that felt good enough instead. Perhaps if they went all the way, it would finally sate her urges, and make right all the _ almosts _ Todd gave her. Gabby gripped his shoulders and decided it was worth finding out. “ _ Okay _.” 

His fingers hooked into her panties and began to pull them down. They had not lowered two inches before there was a loud rapping against the window. 

Gabby shrieked, coming out of her skin.

“What the fuck!” Todd reared back and screamed, hitting his head on the roof of the car. 

The windows were fogged up and it was difficult to see the figure standing outside. A man's voice said, "No _ parkin’ _ ere." 

Todd crammed himself back in his pants and jumped out of the car before Gabby could finish fixing herself. Luckily, he stood in the doorway and blocked her from view as she scrambled to pull her skirt down and her shirt up. 

"What’s it matter to you? Just keep walking you fucking perv," Todd growled. 

"I'm nae th’ one flippin’ his bobby out in public places." 

Gabby sat up alarmed. She knew that accent. What were the chances? Trying to look around Todd and catch a glimpse of the man, she was frustrated to find his face was obstructed from view. She would just die if it was him… Plenty of other men wore nice dress slacks and designer shirts and sounded like they were a Scottish Highlander...yeah right. A familiar gold watch glinted in the night when he moved his arm and her stomach sank. 

“It’s a private drive, you asshole!” 

Todd shifted his weight on the balls of his feet and Gabby finally got a clear view that confirmed her fear. Horrified to discover that the man was not a stranger at all, she uttered a small strangled cry, "Oh my god, _ Dougal _?" 

“Babe?” Todd whirled around. "You know this guy?" 

"Aye," Dougal answered for her, his green eyes rife with amusement. 

Great. She was mortified and he was having a good laugh over it. If he were not so damn sexy, she would have been really sore about that. Unfortunately, his accent had her too easily forgetting his trespass.

"I ken ‘er ma and ‘er da too. I doubt they would appreciate ye robbin' ‘er of ‘er virtue." He made it a point to give a disgusted look at the Jeep before adding, "Specially in this grocery-getter. Have some respect for the lass an’ let ’er knickers be til ye can show ‘er a real _ ride _."

Todd gaped at him, and so did Gabby. She got the distinct impression he was not talking about the car anymore, and it set her sixteen year old body ablaze. Dougal had never spoken like that before, though perhaps that was because she had never seen him upset before. 

Not even the day she met him--when he caught her in his yard peeping at him while he lay buck naked in his lounger. 

At thirteen, Gabby often acted disinterested whenever new things happened in her neighborhood, but still had a burning curiosity that caused her to do things like spy on others. 

When the moving truck first pulled up in front of the abandoned house next door, her mother commented on the luxurious furniture being unloaded, swooning over brands. Her father grumbled about the heavy machinery that beeped and chugged in the backyard for over a week. Gabby noticed the new owner and the many beautiful women that got out of his canary yellow Corvette to follow him inside. 

At times, she was sure he caught her watching him through the window, as his smile in the direction of her house would have been unprecedented otherwise. He may have just been a happy man who smiled for the sake of it and with all that money and sex appeal it would have been believable enough. Though, something about his smile was far too mischievous for it to be mere contentedness. 

It had been two days since the last big truck left his yard when Gabby let her curiosity get the better of her. Her father had already had a peek between the shrubs and remarked on how much it must have cost to create ‘such an Eden’ next door. Gabby’s father was not one who gave out compliments easily, always adding a line or two to detract from the praise. He was not a cruel man--simply a modest one who judged a bit more than was necessary from time to time. For him to liken the yard to Eden, was quite a testament to how attractive it was and she knew she had to see it. 

She parted the shrubs by the opening in his fence and was immediately awestruck by the sheer beauty of what he had created. Unconsciously, she stepped forward, drawn to it. Exotic flowers lined the fence in such vibrant colors and unique shapes. Orchard trees ripe with fruit accented a garden and gave off a sweet smell that had her suddenly feeling hungry. Rock walls separated the patio from the rest of the yard, not uniform or brick and mortar, but instead looking almost as if it had occurred naturally, though she did not remember them from her previous neighbor. Come to think of it, Gabby did not recall the yard being so large before. 

Stepping further inside, the sunshine seemed brighter, lighting her hair and warming her skin. This place felt like magic and was strangely reminiscent to her, though she could not place where she had seen it before--_ if _ she had seen it before. Gabby blinked when light flashed in her eyes and she glanced down to see the sun reflecting on water. She had not noticed the pond before then, or the man lounging beside it. 

Not a stitch of clothing in sight, he wore only Ray Bans as he laid out in the sun. The fact that he did not freakout--or even move an inch, told her he was probably sleeping beneath those sunglasses. She glanced over at the boundary line between their yards and then back at him. Logic had her planning how best to make her stealthy retreat. Unfortunately, pubescent curiosity had her considering whether or not she could get a closer view without alerting him to her trespassing. 

“Ever seen a naked man before?" 

Gabby swallowed a shriek. She wanted to bury her flushed face in her hands and run, but her knees locked, keeping her in place. "Erm," she uttered, unable to say anything intelligible, let alone process the strange accent he spoke in. 

He propped himself up on his elbows as he looked her way. Gabby averted her gaze, loathing how uncomfortable she looked in the reflection of his glasses. At thirteen, she was more than half way to adulthood and only children got embarrassed over nudity. Silently cursing herself, Gabby stared at the grass beneath her feet as she found the words. “I didn’t mean to-”

“Ye were curious,” he cut off her paltry explanation. The way he strung the vowels so close together and tapped his Rs had her wondering if his accent might have been Irish, or maybe Scottish? Somewhere far away from their little slice of Americana, ala cul de sac. 

“Uh,” she stuttered. Admitting her interest in the male form was absolutely the last thing she wanted to do, especially standing in front of a naked one.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him reach for a towel. He stood up and wrapped it around his waist as he said, “About th’ garden. Everyone is.”

Gabby chanced a glance, and was relieved to see that he was covered. “Uh, yeah,” she admitted, only catching the word _ garden _. “My dad says it must have cost a fortune.”

Why did she say that? She could have kicked herself for sounding so ridiculous. Apparently deciding not to address her father’s thoughts on the matter, he gestured for her to walk with him. “Name’s Dougal.” 

Eyeing the split in the towel, Gabby drew a deep breath and followed. “What’s your first name?” 

“Dougal,” he repeated, amused.

“Oh.” She felt stupid. It was only that she had never heard that name before. She had heard ‘MacDougal’ and it was her first grade teacher’s last name. “Sorry. I didn’t know.”

He simply nodded and removed his sunglasses to reveal a set of emerald eyes. His dark hair and freckles gave them a stunning effect. Dougal had a muscular build without too much hair--with the exception of a happy trail that had her gaze slipping down to the brim of his towel. He also had a tattoo on his left bicep of a naked woman with long red hair bending over on tiptoes to pet a Great Dane with the words, _ Fucked by Fate _, in a banner overhead. Just when she was about to ask him what that meant, Dougal said, “I ken well what yer da thinks of th’ garden--what about ye?”

Gabby looked around them, feeling silly even having an opinion. Landscaping and home decor were things adults bothered with. What did she know about the perfect patio bricks, perennials, or layouts? Forgetting all of that, Gabby answered honestly, “I feel like I have seen this before.” 

“Better Homes an’ Gardens?” He joked, and she laughed because it was expected.

She was not sure where or when, but she had a strong sense of deja vu--more so than whenever Gabriel appeared. Speaking of which, Gabby wondered where he had gotten off to. He had not approved of her new neighbor from day one and would not have taken kindly to her sneaking over there then. 

In fact, it was not long after this encounter that Gabby shared her neighbor’s name with Gabriel only to catch him roll his eyes and announce that _ Dougal _was gaelic for, “dark stranger.” He had forbidden her from seeing him, which only made her wish to see him more. As the front door to Dougal’s house became a revolving door for tramps, however, she became less and less inclined to wander into his yard no matter how serene it was. 

It was a wonder that he was there now--three years later, chiding her and her boyfriend for something that seemed very much his style, and definitely did not concern him in the least. She would be more indignant about that if his sexual innuendo about a “ride” had not affected her more than she would like to admit. 

“Maybe you wouldn’t be such a dick, if someone actually _ rode _yours once in a while.”

Gabby’s jaw fell open. 

Dougal said nothing to Todd’s quip, only started rolling up his sleeves. 

“What are you doing?” Todd asked. Each inch of meaty forearm Dougal uncovered only seemed to unnerve him more. 

Though it was a threat, Dougal replied nonchalantly, “Preparin’ to kick yer scrawny arse.” 

“Stop,” Gabby begged. “Let’s just cool it.” 

“I’m _ ‘cool _,’ lass.” Dougal gave her a wink and then pointed at Todd. “Tis yer laddie that’s sweatin’ is bollocks off.” 

Todd pursed his lips. “Yeah right, old man.”

Dougal was probably in his thirties--hardly an ‘old man.’ Yet, Gabby still took offense for him. It did not help that Todd’s comment reminded her that she was lusting after a man twice her age. “Okay, enough,” she growled at Todd, who then gave her a confused look. 

Stepping between the two men, Gabby turned her back on Todd to look Dougal square in his eyes. “If I let you take me home, will you leave him alone?” 

Todd’s voice rose behind her. “Gabby? What are you doing?” 

Again, she ignored him as she watched Dougal nod his head in agreement. He held his hand out for her and she took it. 

“Gabby, what the fuck?” 

“Pay him no mind,” Dougal whispered in her ear as he walked her to his newest Corvette and opened the door for her. 

She wanted to tell Todd that it was the only way to get Dougal to go and quite possibly avoid her parents finding out what they were up to. Gabby would spend the car ride home trying to convince Dougal to not be such a concerned and responsible adult. Instead, she only gave Todd an apologetic glance before she got in the car. 

The smell of leather seats and Dougal’s cologne filled her nostrils and distracted her from her mission. They had been driving for miles in silence, Gabby’s gaze alternating between the reflective painted lines on the pavement and the blue lights on his dashboard, before she regained her senses. “Dougal,” she started, licking her lips nervously. “My parents…”

“I’ll not whisper a word,” he promised to the road ahead. 

She breathed a sigh of relief, one she realized came too soon. He was pulling the car over--a half a mile from her house. “Uh-”

“Ye shouldne be givin’ yerself up to th’ first lad that takes a shine,” he said, turning to look at her. His eyes had a fire in them that told her he was upset. “Yer special to someone.”

_ Who? _

The question burned in her brain, begging to be asked. Questions like that often already came with answers and only one of them ever acceptable. It was silly of her, but deep down, she wanted this dark stranger to tell her that she was special to him. In true Gabrielle Darby fashion, knowing it was impossible, she gave him a dismissive smile. “Everyone is special to someone--it hardly means you are.”

He pinched his face in mock disgust. “Auch, yer a wee bit cynical for such a bonny lass.”

Gabby’s cheeks heated and she turned to look out the window, searching for a witty response. None came and she forced herself not to look when he chuckled. 

“I only meant save yerself for a lad that appreciates you.” 

Gabby stilled when she felt his fingers in her hair, tucking a lock behind her ear. Goosebumps spread and her heart sped up as she slowly turned to him. There was a softness in his expression that made her feel like perhaps he might be someone who would appreciate her. 

His fingertips slid down to her jaw and she leaned into the gentle caress, listening as he finished, “Who’s not burdened by yer mind, but cherishes it.”

_ Burdened by your mind _, the words echoed in her head. How did he know she felt that way? Somewhere written deep in her diary was her worry that she was too different from the other girls in school. They got brain cramps wondering what to wear, while she was often lost in thought about everything else in the world, including what might have made the Bronte sisters gothic before it was so stylish.

Todd had never appreciated her brain, and to be truthful, Gabby was just grateful he was never turned off by it. Entranced by Dougal’s lush irises and the curve of his smile, she did nothing to resist the pull she felt toward him. Before she was conscious of what she was doing, her lips were on his.

They both hesitated, surprised by such a bold move on her part. 

_ In for a penny, in for a pound. _

Gabby tilted her head with a sense of determination as she kissed him. Not exactly a dead fish, Dougal reciprocated, however taken aback he was. 

He tasted of cinnamon and felt amazing--matching her every move. Experience really did make a difference. When his hand came up to cup her cheek, Gabby sighed into their kiss, wishing the cupholders between them would disappear. 

It disappointed her more than it should have when he gently pulled away from her lips. “That was a bad idea.”

No girl wants to hear that, especially not after the best kiss of her life. Rather than say as much, she shot him a hurt look. 

“Dinna fash,” he soothed, reaching for her hand. “It’s not yer fault. I dinna pick fruit that isnae ripe.”

Gabby did not understand a word he just said and it made her want to rip her hand out of his and walk the rest of the way home. Unfortunately for her, she could not hide her embarrassment behind indignation this time. Whatever he had said, it was clear from the sympathetic wrinkle in his brow that there was no malice behind it. “What do you mean?”

Dougal rubbed his thumb over her knuckles as he said, “It’s still to soon, Gabrielle. Some things shouldne be rushed.”

_ ‘Soon’ _ and _ ‘rushed _,’ made her think he might be interested in her at some point. A dozen hollywood couples featuring older men and younger women flashed before her eyes. “Do you mean that you might want to…” She trailed off, suddenly too shy to say it aloud. Dougal held her gaze in a way that she was not entirely certain if he might be challenging her bravery or encouraging it. Gabby swallowed before she finished, “Once I’m older?”

He said nothing, only lifted her hand to his lips and pecked a kiss to it. She could see the conflict in his eyes--that he was thinking something he was not willing to say. 

Gabby just wished he would already. She was not a baby anymore. She could take it. “Dougal?”

He winced as if her use of his name had injured him somehow, though she could not conceive of how. “No,” he said clearing his throat. He gave her hand one last squeeze before he released it and put the car in drive again. 

She should have been angry--yelled at him for so severely offending her. Instead, she just deflated on her side of the car, gripping the door handle. She barely heard him explain, “I am no groom to yer bride, Gabby.” 

Groom to bride? Those were marriage words. 

It was then that the anger fired inside her. How dare he talk like that! Just where in the Hell did Mr. Dark Stranger Playboy Bachelor Next Door get off telling her to wait for marriage? Of course he was not her ‘groom’--she wasn’t looking for a damn husband! At sixteen, that was a good thing! The car rolled to a stop in front of her house and she flung the door open. 

“Lass,” he called out, moving quickly around the car to catch her. 

Whirling around, she growled, “Then what are you?”

All apology was gone from his expression, replaced now with stern resolve. “Someone to tell ye yer honor is a gift that shouldne be given lightly.”

“That’s not up to you!” She hissed, hating how he made her feel. The way he spoke of her honor had her feeling as if she had let her hormones compel her to act like a slut. 

Gabby turned her back on him and walked up the stone path to her front door. It was the twenty-first century and women had the right to get their needs met, to make the first move. Things might have been different in Scotland, but in America a woman’s honor was not tarnished simply because she chose to sleep with a man out of wedlock. 

She heard him tap the gas and move his car into his own driveway as she slid her key into the lock, telling herself over and over that she would not look over her shoulder. As soon as the door opened into her dark living room, reality hit and she remembered her parents were only a few rooms away. It was not very difficult to sneak up to her bedroom--as she had been doing so for years now--but getting past Gabriel was never easy.

He stood at the top of the stairs and whispered, “Do you want to talk?” 

Gabby breezed past him, gritting through her teeth, “Not especially.” 

“Are you-”

She didn’t hear the rest of whatever he said, having closed her bedroom door on his face. He could interrogate her later. Gabby was too tired and embarrassed to deal with his judgement on top of Dougal’s. Sliding into bed, she squeezed her eyes shut, refusing to look out her bedroom window at his front porch. 

As soon as her head hit the pillow, she was out.

* * *

_ Though there were strings of yellow lights hanging in the branches to decorate, the wedding was made more breathtaking by the soft orange glow of dusk. Hundreds of people were in attendance, turned in their seats to see her as she stood at the end of the aisle. The scent of fresh apples clung in the air and a warmth settled in her belly as she looked ahead to the man waiting for her. _

_ Squinting her eyes, Gabby tried to see his face but could not. Stepping forward for a closer look, she noticed a fiddler lift his bow. The music that flowed from the instrument was not the typical wedding march, but instead something much more enchanting. _

_ It was a melody that coaxed its listeners. _

_ One foot stepped in front of the other to the music until she stood before the preacher, staring down at the large diamond ring glittering on her finger as her hand slid into that of her groom’s. It was the perfect fit, his hand holding hers gently so as not to hurt her, but firmly so as not to lose her. She sighed with pleasure to be adored so deeply. _

_ She knew then that she had saved herself for this man. He was her other half, and on this day, she was giving everything she possessed for him. It was the best decision of her life--she knew it in the marrow of her bones, as if it were truly her destiny. _

_ Needing to look upon the man who vowed to love, honor, and protect her, Gabby began to lift her chin. She stilled, however, when she saw smoke curl from their joined hands. The scent of burnt flesh filled her nostrils and she tried to pull away, but could not. _

_ “Gabriel!” She cried, looking for him in the crowd. “Help! Gabriel!” _

* * *

She woke sweaty and panting. Relieved to see that she was back in the safety of her bedroom, she lifted her hand from beneath the blankets. It was neither injured or wearing a ring, though her finger somehow felt more naked than usual. Then again, it always did right after. 

A tear rolled down Gabby’s cheek as she fell back in her bed. It had been at least six months since she had last dreamed of marrying the devil, and she had naively began to believe that she was all done with suffering such nightmares.


	7. Spoiled Goods

**Twenty Three Years Ago**

Charred feathers lilted to the ground in a circle around the angel. He hung from an interrogation hook in the center of the chamber, with an empty one to either side of him where others could be questioned simultaneously. It was intentional that no one else was hung with him. It was meant to remind him that he was all alone--no friends to protect him in Hell, no one to come to his rescue. Not that anyone would dare interrupt Lucifer when he was working. 

In the many years since his sentencing--while the blueprint for his soulmate was passing through the generations--he had taken his work of punishing the wicked seriously. He appreciated being the best at something and since his stars were not what they once were, he was willing to expand his repertoire. Tormenting also kept his hands occupied and his mind off of the emptiness that burdened him. Though, more importantly, it simply felt right to punish people for their crimes. Mediation was never as simple or as satisfying as taking an eye for an eye. 

And Lucifer had definitely taken many eyes.

Mostly human, of course. Freewill definitely offered job security. Give a man the choice and he will bash his neighbor's brains in every time. Even the supposed good ones were not truly pure--if they were, then why did they need rules to tell them how to be a good person? 

Lucifer would never understand his maker's determination to cherish them above all others. It was something he used to wonder about quite a bit in the early days. He eventually learned to put that aside, however, and allow himself other curiosities.

Like why Azazel had turned from God--for a human, no less. Why he would allow himself such suffering for it. 

Molting angel wings are truly tragic to witness. While the entirety of an angel is celestial and therefore awe-inspiring, his wings specifically, are created with God's grace. They positively glow with it, and when harm comes to them, that light begins to flicker and fade. Slowly, one by one, feathers start to fall. The purest snow white plumes turn dingy and brown from the grease that secretes from the flesh. It is the body's last effort to protect sensitive skin that has never before been exposed to the elements. What was once glorious becomes wretched and it is not long before the angel's will breaks. The last two that Lucifer tortured, had cut off their own wings to avoid ever again having to look upon what was done to them. 

Aside from the ones who fell with Lucifer originally, it was extremely rare to have an angel exiled to Hell. Only a few had fallen since, and they were never accepted--not by Lucifer, his demons, the other fallen angels, or even the tortured souls that began to populate Hell. These late-comers were hated for not standing with Lucifer when it mattered most, and likewise loathed for squandering their place in Heaven blessed with God's warmth. 

“When you betrayed God, did you consider the consequences of your descent? Or did you simply write damnation off as tea parties and heart to hearts?” Lucifer hissed as he plucked another feather from his brother’s wing. “Hmm? Anxious to join the Fallen Angels' Club circle jerk?”

“No!” Thick syrupy blood poured from his open mouth. “Samael, please!”

Lucifer rubbed the back of his neck as he paced, gently massaging the tension away. He hated that name. It brought on memories--ones best left buried. “We’ve been over this. I am Lucifer now. Using a name from a former life will not garner you any favor.” 

“Please, I-”

He lunged for the angel’s ear. He was uninterested in his pleading and decided to teach him so by tearing it off with his teeth. 

Azazel screamed in agony, popping all the blood vessels in his eyes until they turned a deep red that swallowed his pupils. They looked quite demonic now, and though he held evil in his heart, he was no demon. Each gut-wrenching sob had him swaying back and forth, painting the floor in bloody drips and splatters. 

Lucifer purred into the flap of flesh, “What will it take to make you listen?” 

After a moment of silence, but for labored breathing, Lucifer spoke, "I'll ask you again: why did you turn from God?"

"What does it matter?" The angel cried out, hopelessness giving him a false sense of courage. 

Lucifer laughed as he plucked another feather, taunting him. "Because people should be punished. It’s the one thing _ Pop _and I can agree on.” 

Azazel spat out a molar and fisted his bound hands. “And you’re the one to judge?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Lucifer chided, carelessly flinging the ear off to the side. “I know you’re not known for your brain, but neither are you known for your lack of it.” Making it a point to step on the tooth, he took pleasure in the sound it made. Lucifer enjoyed crushing bone the way others enjoyed popping bubble wrap. “God judged. I’m only carrying out the sentence."

Azazel’s battered face twisted and cracked until Lucifer could see a small smile underneath all the blood and bruise. “You have not changed, _ brother _ .” The emphasis made him cough. “After all this time, even down here, you are his loyal lapdog _ Samael _.”

The torture had stripped many layers off the angel. First his shame and guilt at being cast aside, then his hope and fear. Now, his true nature was presenting itself, the rot deep within that lead him to sin. 

Recognizing all too well the stench of immorality, Lucifer threw his head back and laughed loudly. “You’re trying to goad me--I love it.” 

Azazel’s smile dropped. 

“You would think to manipulate me into releasing you.” Lucifer turned one finger into a long black talon and brought it to Azazel’s lips, scraping it over them as he said, “I am not your human whore. Your whispers in my ear won’t twist my will.”

The lecherous angel scowled through the pain of Lucifer’s assault. His determination to fight back had Lucifer admiring, “How quickly you went from meek and pleading to cunning and courageous. You’re a slippery one. It’s no wonder father exiled you.” 

Azazel turned his head in an attempt to save his face from any more abuse. “You know better than most that he’s not one for second chances.”

“Whereas I tend to give them in droves,” Lucifer admitted. “All the more opportunity for you to fuck up and dig a deeper hole.” 

A faint chuckle escaped Azazel’s marred lips. “You haven’t even given me a first chance.” 

Rather than play his little game of tit-for-tat, Lucifer took a step back and cocked his head, taking in his mangled form. “I don’t think I will leave you here long. Not like the others.” 

He let out a small sigh, relieved for the mercy. That was until Lucifer continued, “Only sixty or eighty years. Perhaps by then you can agree that it’s wrong for angels to boff humans.” 

Azazel growled something unintelligible. 

“What’s that?” Lucifer cupped a hand to his ear and leaned in, mocking the man for his missing ear. “I can’t hear you.” 

He pursed his lips. 

“One should speak when spoken to. There’s no need to be so rude.” He chuckled to himself and then remembered the way in which he had attempted to goad him. “If I hit you on the nose with the newspaper, perhaps it will properly train you. You’ll be my _ lapdog _then.”

Turning to leave, he heard Azazel rasp, “I said, I forgot, you’re the only angel God allows to partake in human flesh.”

Lucifer froze in place. He was referring to his soulmate. How brazen. Turning slowly on his heel, Lucifer wet his lips as he asked, “Tell me--I’m curious. Did you eat that woman's cunt because you've got a taste for it? Or were you just making do?” Reaching down to grip his cock, he grinned. “You know, because you lack the equipment to really give it to her good."

Azazel lifted his chin to stare his ruptured eyes into Lucifer’s. “Enjoy it while you can.”

Completely unaffected by the threat, Lucifer rolled his eyes. “And that is supposed to mean?”

“You really haven’t heard?” Azazel laughed through his fat lips and swollen cheeks. He laughed until he coughed and trembled on the hook. “The great and terrifying Lucifer Morningstar doesn’t know as much as he thinks he does.”

Lucifer’s cheek twitched in irritation. Storming back over to him, he shoved Azazel, letting the hook dig further into his ribs. “Enlighten me.”

“_ The shield! _” He shrieked, swinging from the impact of Lucifer’s push. He paled, sweat pouring from his brow as he shivered. “It’s down.” 

He could have only meant one thing. 

Lucifer stopped him, momentarily easing his pain. “You’re full of shit.” 

“L-look for yourself,” Azazel panted. “You’ll see.”

“What will he see?”

Lucifer had heard Lilith’s heels clicking on the concrete but was too distracted by the angel’s conviction to bother acknowledging her until then. “Apparently the angels are no longer guarding my punishment.” 

“She lives?” There was an edge to her voice that told Lucifer she very much would have preferred that the girl didn’t.

“Yes, it took her long enough,” he growled as he stalked off, leaving Azazel to sway and scream in solitary. Thousands of years spent waiting for the other shoe to drop, never knowing when God’s punishment would strike, Lucifer was all too ready to find this woman and end whatever threat she posed.

The click-clack of Lilith’s shoes sped up as she followed him. “I’ve been thinking. So what if she’s finally surfaced?”

He stopped. “I’m listening.” 

“You’ve gone this long without her and wanted for nothing.” She set her had on his forearm as she caught her breath and suggested, “Leave her alone.”

If only he could. 

If only God had not seen fit to add insult to injury--giving him a human as a soulmate. 

Lilith thought he wanted for nothing, though that could not have been further from the truth. Lucifer had definitely wanted. God had widened the hole in his heart and forced him to live thousands of years without hope of mending it.

How could he possibly leave this woman alone now that she was finally within reach? No, no, no. The time for closure had come. He would find and kill her as soon as possible. 

“Want me to call a girl for you?” Lilith’s question intruded on his murderous plans. 

When he only blinked back at her, she explained, “To take the edge off?” 

Sex--Lilith’s solution to everything. 

To be fair, a busload of eager cheerleaders usually did pull him from a stupor. But no, not this time. This time, only finding his soulmate would suffice. Just then, the strangest thought invaded his mind; what if he bedded her first? Just once before killing her. Would that single act fix the wound God gave him or only make it more permanent? 

“No,” he responded, more to himself than to her.

“Oh. Alright.” Lilith paused and then pulled a reluctant face. “You don’t want to…with me? Do you?”

Lucifer and Lilith had not joined since he had been sentenced to his mortal soulmate. She had become more of a friend to him over the years--someone who understood the pain of exile and had stood the test of time. 

Lucifer plucked her hand off his arm. “Don’t be ridiculous, we’re beyond that.”

Her shoulders sank as he walked by. Thankfully, he knew that she too had gone off of him. The pout on her face was due to her pride, not sorely missing a roll in the hay with him. Not one to let him cast her aside so easily, she rallied, “I’m telling you to let her go. Your soulmate is only a punishment if you allow it to be.” 

Why was she hampering him? What did this matter to her? The soulmate was not her punishment. Lucifer opened the door to his private study and gave her a truly wicked smile. “Now Lilith, that would be sloppy. You know me better than that.” 

Uncertainty settled in her eyes. 

“I intend to find this soulmate of mine,” he promised as he waved his hand through the air, ripping open a window to the mortal realm. 

Lilith winced and took a step back. Hell had been preserving her and they both knew now that should she step one foot on Earth, she would begin aging again. 

Lucifer ignored her trepidation as millions of faces swooped by the window. His hands twisted and turned, moving to better suit his search. “I can't wait to see the look on _ Father's _ face when I show him how ineffective his punishment was.”

“Ineffective?”

He snickered as he finished searching Norway. “She can not bother me if she is dead, can she?”

A smile spread on Lilith’s lips. Because she was not made of Adam to be subservient to him, she was not as petite as Eve had been, and neither did she share his brown hair color. She was as tall as an Amazon--being that she was technically the first, and her hair was a light blonde. It held golden hues to it, though was in no way as lustrous as Lucifer’s had once been when he was his former self. She was a beautiful woman and her smile should have accentuated that. If it had not been devoid of God’s love for so long, perhaps it might have.

He heard her move around him before he caught her settling into one of his arm chairs out of the corner of his eye. “Staying?”

Kicking her shoes off before swinging her legs over the side of the chair and leaning back against the other, she tapped the end table beside it twice. “I wouldn’t miss this for the world.”

It was only right that she might wish to witness history in the making. After all, it was not every day that Lucifer had the opportunity to put the screws to God--it was worth the front row seat. 

A knock sounded against the door and Lilith spoke for him, “Enter.”

Lucifer did not need to look to know it was Lysistrata, their first demon. She shared her mother’s blond hair and solid frame, though her eyes were hazel--no doubt affected by the many transformations his had gone under. 

Lucifer had not been created to reproduce and since coming to Hell had stopped Lilith from aging, her body required his assistance past fertilization to produce offspring. Thousands of babies that were never meant to be were all cut from her belly because time had stopped in her body, and it never signaled her to birth.

They were all spiny, scaly, bald abominations with skin that ranged from obsidian and as hard as rocks to opaque and as thin and fragile as a jellyfish. He felt absolutely no connection to them, seeing only molecules--matter transformed from one state to another. It was Lilith who cradled them to her breast and cooed down to their broken faces. She even insisted that they all call him ‘Daddy’ though he was clear that they were not to. 

When Lysistrata was born, Lucifer held her in one hand and stared down into the holes where her eyes had not yet come in. He thought she was stillborn at first, until she suddenly gasped air into her tiny malformed lungs and let out a wail that rivaled a banshee. If Lucifer felt anything for any of the demons he had spawned, it was for his first. He held her up for all to see, triumphantly declaring her a _ Demon _\--a creature superior to God’s beloved mankind.

Some demons were born with flesh like their mother, though it was usually scarred and deficient in some way. Ones that had proven themselves particularly loyal, Lucifer blessed with a more human appearance, meant for walking the Earth. They were much less affected by the mortal realm than Lilith, and perfect soldiers because of it. Lysistrata was perhaps the most loyal of them all, having had many successful missions topside. 

“Mother,” she greeted, handing her a glass of dark red wine. Nodding her head towards him, she acknowledged, “Sir.”

He said nothing as he searched, feeling as though he was growing close.

“Daddy’s looking for his soulmate,” Lilith explained, draped over the chair. 

Lysistrata raised an eyebrow and whispered, “And you’re watching?” 

“Of course I am, darling.” Lilith waved to the chair beside her. “Come, sit. I have a feeling her death will be quite the show--he’s had to wait so long, you know.”

Their voices lowered while he worked, as if he could not hear them conspiring. 

“Are they settled?” Lilith asked. 

To which, Lysistrata replied, “For now--but it won’t last. They are pushing us too far.”

“Soon, darling,” Lilith hushed. 

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek, willfully ignoring them. There was a major class divide between fallen angels and demons, and while he took no sides, he knew Lilith was loyal to her babies. Sneaking around, pretending to play politician kept her satisfied, and had no real effect on anything, so he allowed it. 

Suddenly, his search came to a dead-stop lurching him forward as he fought to regain his bearings.

“Oh goodie!” Lilith exclaimed. “He found her.” 

Lysistrata’s voice sounded far away behind him as she asked, “How do you know?” 

Short auburn hair neatly trimmed into a bob and a slender neck filled his view as he held the window open and took a step to the side, slowly walking around to see her face. Lilith spoke, though he did not hear her words as he looked into this nameless soulmate’s eyes. They were both a rich chocolate brown, and appeared soft with a kindness he did not understand. He cocked his head as he took in her features, remembering the first human to carry his essence. How had the years changed and adapted his blood to make him this match? He could see that they did not share the eyes he had with the first woman--no doubt to better hide her from him, but what else did they have in common? 

“Would you like me to retrieve her?” Lysistrata asked.

“No, she is his,” Lilith answered, bloodlust clear in her voice. 

Lucifer furrowed his brow as he stared at the woman and considered Lilith’s words. _ She was his. _And yet, oddly enough, he felt no claim over her. Only curiosity. 

Who was she? Where did she come from? Where did she live? What was she like? A goodie-two-shoes or someone of questionable character? 

Shielded by angels all her life, she was probably bland and obnoxiously devout. Having a woman that blessed him every time he sneezed was certainly God’s particular brand of,_ Fuck you! _

Needing to know more, he stepped back around behind her, wanting to see what she saw, where she was. A man stood beside her, holding her hand as they walked.

“Shall we make it a double homicide?” Lilith snickered into her glass. 

Lucifer shrugged. It should have bothered him, this relationship she had with this man. His pride alone would have niggled at him until he was sufficiently irate over it, if not any possessiveness he felt for his mate. And yet, he felt nothing and said as much, “It’s of no consequence to me.”

“What?”

“I feel no spark for this human.” He shot her a glance over his shoulder. “I have no desire for her.”

Lilith gulped down the rest of her glass and got up. She came to his side, watching his soulmate and her boyfriend/husband/whoever he was, walking with her. “Do you think it is because we’re in Hell and she is on Earth? Do you think the barrier is dulling the connection?”

Perhaps. 

He was not certain. For the first time in a very long time, he was encountering something entirely new to him. Not wishing to so easily advertise his ignorance, he sucked his teeth and rolled his eyes before exclaiming, “No. It’s because our father is a piss-poor creator and failed to make me a proper woman.” 

Lysistrata giggled, easily buying his theatrics. “Yet another way in which God is inferior, Sir.”

“Hush,” Lilith scolded. “You should feel sorry for Daddy right now.” She gave him a sad look. “That mean old God took all the fun out of his kill.” 

Indeed he had. 

Not that killing was particularly fun--contrary to popular belief, it wasn’t. Killing was a means to an end. Torture could entertain if he felt it was just enough, though it was often only a hobby. If Lucifer had his way, he would spend his days to himself in his workshop creating more light. But, he had a kingdom to rule and those within it staved off the loneliness he was cursed with. It was all he had, and if it meant he needed to embrace the evil to keep it, he would. 

He forced himself to grin at Lilith and lie as he spoke to Lysistrata, “Listen to your mother, she understands.” 

Lucifer watched Lilith’s lips curl into a self-satisfied smile before he heard glass break and darted his gaze to Lysistrata. Her drink had fallen to the floor, her eyes wide with shock as she looked past him to the window on his soulmate. He whipped his head around to see that the woman walked further from his view, letting them see her full body--which was quite pregnant. 

He felt no shock, only the hot sting of indignation traveling his veins to tense his muscles and curl his fists in fury. 

His mate had bred with another. 

God gave her only to him and she gave herself to someone else. The first woman had begged him not to bed her, and this woman had just ensured that he never would. Not that he had decided to, but he very much disliked having the choice taken from him. 

His fists crashed into his desk, reducing it to nothing but a pile of splinters. Lilith winced involuntarily, while her daughter stood at attention. Lysistrata was his best lieutenant in Hell because she absolutely loved war and was always battle-ready. 

“Sir?”

Ignoring her, Lucifer threw his head back and roared, “Oh, you would give me _ spoiled goods! _” 

He imagined God in Heaven with all his favorite angels watching his tantrum and laughing. His assumption was confirmed when he actually heard laughter behind him. 

Lilith. 

He grit his teeth as he turned back to the window on his disappointing mate. “This is amusing to you?” 

“It’s the absurdity of the situation,” she answered, clutching her stomach, and wiping tears from her eyes. “Who would have guessed back then what he had planned?” 

“Shut up,” he growled. He needed no reminder of that day.

Lysistrata said nothing, though the fact that she was easing herself closer to her mother did not go unnoticed. What chance did she really think she had against him? 

If Lilith was scared of him, she had learned how to hide it. Instead of quietting, she lifted her chin and said, “You were going to kill her anyway--what does it matter if she’s breeding?”

“It’s the principle.”

Tearing across the room, he snatched a decanter off the shelf and poured himself a stiff drink. He eyed the woman through his glass as he drained his drink. When it was empty, he began pouring himself another. “I want to know everything about her.”

“Yes, Sir.”

“Her name, the day she was born, full medical history, if she has a profession.” He paused his demands long enough to swallow back more bourbon. “What type of deodorant she uses for fuck-sake!” 

Apparently, Lysistrata had decided that her mother was safe because she was halfway to the door as she called back, “On it, Sir!”

Lilith waited until the door clicked shut before she asked, barely above a whisper, “Are you having second thoughts? About killing her?”

“Of course not.” Murder was the only way to remedy such a horrible situation. 

Lilith stepped closer to the window, holding herself as she did. Something had changed in her, given her some bravery. He eyed her suspiciously as she watched Earth and asked, “Then why do you want to know so much about her?”

“She’s my other half,” he answered begrudgingly. It was a small pleasure to see her lips thin in response. 

They stood in silence for a moment before something came to him. “Does Capala still race?” 

Lilith turned to him, confusion wrinkling her brow. “Yes, why?”

Capala was one of their younger demons, named for the way his joints had come out twisted to offer him an unrivaled speed. He loved the feel of the wind in his hair as he raced and had earned his human flesh corrupting bookies and fixing matches top-side. 

Lucifer grinned into his glass, watching the man pull a chair out for his mate. They sat outside a little bistro together, both leaning intimately into one another. He placed a protective arm around her while they waited for their order. “Perhaps he would like to take a Maclaren out for a test drive.” 

Lilith eyed him, trying to suss out his meaning. “He would.”

The woman placed her hand on her belly and smiled at whatever the man said. As soon as Lysistrata reported back to him, he would call upon Capala and put an end to this embarrassment. Lifting his drink to his lips he smirked. “It’s a shame how many lives are claimed by car accidents each year.”


	8. At First Sight

Lucifer’s mate was a mortal woman whose beauty was completely unrivaled by any creature in all of existence. She gave off a natural glow that set her apart from mankind, though she had genuine birthmarks to prove that she was not of his kind either. From the moment he laid eyes on her, he could think of nothing and no one else. She was smart and funny and even spiteful when she wanted to be. Strong, so very strong--she was a fierce woman who’s passion fueled her fight. And although she had taken to some light criminal deviance since her parents passing, her soul remained pure. 

Even with the taint of Lucifer’s own soul swirling around inside her, Gabrielle was a good person. She also had just enough grit to keep her interesting.

What he wouldn’t give to have her, to cherish her--If only she would let him. He knew her head had been filled with lies about him, all claiming he would corrupt her if given the chance. What no one bothered to consider, was that Lucifer saw absolutely no need to tamper with perfection. He would be content just to have her name him as her true love and finish out his days with her filling the cursed emptiness inside him. 

Watching her circle the department store twice, clutching both blouses under one arm as she paroused, he imagined standing beside her. He would hold her wares for her and use the excuse of being helpful to lean over her shoulder and breathe in her scent.

Unfortunately, her ongoing tendency to push him away often left the desire unfulfilled. In truth, it was better this way. She was not ready for him, and he respected that. Waiting for her was bearable only because he knew that unlike mortal men, he could see her in ways they could not, despite the distance she put between them. 

Gabrielle held up a plaid mini skirt and looked it over before setting it back on the rack. Lucifer longed to tell her how becoming she was in that style of dress. That would have been a mistake, however. Until only recently, she could not tolerate being in the same room as him for any length of time, let alone listen to his opinions or praise. Something in her changed--if only a little--after he saved her from those two morons. 

For the first time since she had known him as Sam, she allowed him to touch her, really and truly. Sure, he had stolen many little touches over the years: the brush of his fingertips against her shoulder or arm, an embrace when she was distracted enough by a vision he provided, etc. He even went so far as to ghost his lips over the nape of her neck when he was brazen enough. 

This time had been different. For her and for him. As soon as he had dispatched the threat, he lost control of himself. He went to her, not taking no for an answer, holding her close and staring into her eyes.

She stared back. 

One eye warm and the other cold, her lids were heavy as he ran his thumb over her jaw. For just a moment, all the briars that lay between them had vanished and her heart was exposed. It was too much and not enough all at once.

How could he possibly demonstrate even a modicum of restraint, when what he thirsted for, lay before him? Her eyes gave him hope again, that they could return to who they were,  _ them _ . Sam and Gabrielle. Lucifer and his eternal queen.

Heartbreak and resentment seemed to slip away in the seconds that passed between them. He stood before her, holding the tip of his tongue to the roof of his mouth, weakly tethering it in place. They had kissed before, when they were together. He had been wooing her then, letting her fall in love with him, and his lips were tender and chaste because of it. 

This kiss would have been anything but. After everything they lost, he had no intention of wasting a second of their time with courtship. They had already played that game and while he had definitely won her heart, the results were disastrous. No. If he had taken advantage of that particular moment, cradling her face in his hands, he would have kissed to claim. 

There would have been no holding back after being denied for so long. He would have pressed his lips to hers as if it was the only thing he was capable of doing and taken his mate right there on the floor of her shitty little apartment. And he would have felt absolutely exultant doing so--damn the consequences. 

He didn’t do any of those things, however. As much as he ached to, he did not. She would have only hated him more if he had.

When she pulled away, despite her harsh words, her eyes told him a different story this time around. Finally, she seemed to see him as more than his mistakes. He could drop the sarcasm and ego he armored himself in as he held her tenderly and cleansed the filth of the mortal realm from her perfect skin. 

They made progress that day, and he refused to lose ground. 

Weaving his way through the clothing racks, Lucifer waited until she stepped into a fitting room before he took a seat on one of the couches in the waiting area. He watched her feet move under the door as she disrobed, and imagined how he planned to better use the fitting room in the future. Once she was more receptive to him, of course. 

He had not been there two minutes, perfectly positioned for his mate to discover him, before a perky sales associate appeared giving him bedroom eyes. Mortals were attracted to the flawlessness of other worldly beings and often left their inhibitions behind when they came face to face with an angel--fallen or not. 

“Is there anything I can help you with?” She asked him in her best Jennifer Tilly voice.

He gave her a polite smile. “No, thank you.” 

“Waiting for your girlfriend?”

Lucifer sucked his teeth in irritation at the horny mortal. Glancing at the name tag he read,  _ Becky _ . “Why yes, Becky. I am.” 

_ Now be a good little mortal and reign in your hormones. You can touch yourself after I leave _ , he imposed upon her mind.

She straightened, revealing less of her cleavage as she got a hold of herself. “Very good. Is there anything I can get you?” There was no suggestion in her tone now, only excellent customer service. 

“Oh for fuck’s sake!”

Lucifer’s eyes snapped to his mate, his chest rising with pleasure at her acknowledgement.

She didn’t give Becky the slightest of glances as she shoved a handful of discarded clothes toward her and growled at him. “What do you want?” 

_ You. Only and always you, _ he let his eyes confess. 

Reading his look all too well, she blew out a breath and said, “Aside from that.” 

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek. He had no intention of admitting he called upon her simply to stave off the constant craving her existence burdened him with, as that would have only resulted in more contempt. For a brief moment he considered feigning interest in Becky’s willingness to please--he’d definitely hidden behind that facade before--but he decided honesty was the best route to take. Especially now, when it seemed she might be more accepting of him than usual. 

Afraid he might put her off with too much authenticity, he slid on the mask of his playful grin to dim the sentiment a bit. “I dislike you shopping alone.” When she opened her mouth to tell him that it was none of his business, he finished by asking, “Who will save you from purchasing high-waisted pants?” 

Gabrielle looked down at the pants she was wearing--black and loose, the waist stopping about two and a half inches below her breasts. “You’re such an ass,” she growled. 

And just like that, his smile grew genuine. Tit-for-tat--even when they had nothing, they at least had their banter. In the earlier days after he had wounded her, she gouged at his heart in return. The silence that passed between them after that--while deafening--was not long lived. She viewed him as the villain and if that was the only way she would recognize him, then he would play that part and accept what attention she offered.

Not letting the subject drop, she turned her head and spat back sarcastically, “I suppose I should take my lead from you--leave the top two buttons of every shirt undone, because it’s straight up  _ fashion.  _ And not at all sleazy and gross."

His gaze flicked to her chest. “I approve of your choice--though not strictly for fashion.” 

The color rose in her cheeks and she crossed her arms over her chest. “I hate it when you do that.” 

“Turn the point you’re making back on you, and poke at you with it?” He asked feeling the playful energy she--and she alone, gave him.

She said nothing, only lifted her chin. Knowing her, she was probably searching for a seething response to best verbally castrate him with. Taking advantage of her momentary silence, Lucifer purred, “It’s not your points I’d like to poke you with…” 

“You’re god-awful, you know that?” 

“Yes, I’m sure he often laments my creation,” he was quick to reply. The sting of his poor relationship with his creator was a pain that had dulled long ago. That didn't mean he was comfortable discussing it. “Let’s focus on us again. We have so much more fun when we do.”

“ _ You _ have more fun,” she clarified. “I just get a headache.”

His head lifted. Hope gleamed in his eyes. She was more apt to allow him to touch her when she was compromised, and he was not ashamed to admit that he had begun to appreciate her headaches for that reason. 

Sensing right away, the direction of his thoughts, she began to protest. “I didn’t say that I have one now, only that you often create them.” 

“You know what I find helps?” 

“You’re going to tell me anyway.” 

He smirked. “Neck rubs.” 

She sighed. 

“Which are actually made much easier when the receiver of said neck rub-” he carried on at a quick pace, absolutely needing to get every word in and bring it full circle. “Happens to have the top two buttons of her blouse undone so that the giver can better access the area.”

“Stop it,” she warned. 

“What?” He held both hands up in mock innocence. “You make it seem as though my reasons are selfish, when in truth it’s all about  _ easy access _ ...to your neck.” His cheek dimpled again as he added, “To ease the ache.”

Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. She was gorgeous like this, completely caught. The flush in her cheeks and the hardened peaks he saw pressing against her shirt told him that they were definitely on the same level, much as she tried to deny it. 

“By the way, if I haven't already told you, you look delicious as always,  _ mate _ .” Boasting their connection comforted him, and reminded him that while she spurned him, she would hold no similar place in her heart for another.

"Even in my high waisted pants?" She challenged. 

He chuckled. "The pants  are a catastrophe and the designer should be shot.”

Her face pinched, infuriated. 

"But that is hardly the point." He did love seeing her perturbed--it showed she cared. "I think we both know I'd fuck you in a burlap sack if you wanted me to."

Becky gasped, reminding them she was there. It was easy to forget other people in the room, basking in the glow of his mate's presence. 

“You can leave now,” Gabrielle ground through her teeth.

"I could," he agreed. "But I enjoy your company too much,  _ mate _ , to cut a visit so short."

“Wait,  _ mate? _ You've called her that a couple of times. I've never heard a guy call a girl that before, and trust me, I've heard some interesting pet names." Slow to the party, Becky looked confused as she asked, “Do you mean mate as in like  _ soulmate _ ?” 

“Unfort-”

“Yes, that’s exactly right,” Lucifer said, cutting her off with a shit-eating-grin. 

Becky beamed. “Oh my god! That’s so romantic! My guy just calls me ‘babe’ all the time. Which is so basic, you know?”

Ignoring Becky’s domestic dissatisfaction, Lucifer rose up off the couch and grabbed a conveniently misplaced plaid miniskirt off of the returns rack. Deciding to pay her the compliment he had not been able to before, he said, “You’d be stunning in this.” 

“Has anyone told you, you have tacky taste?” His mate glanced at Becky for support as she scoffed.

Becky considered how best to toe the line of making customers with opposing views happy. It would be a while before she mentally thumbed through her Holy Bible of Retail for the best canned response, so Lucifer left no opening for her to contribute. “You were looking at it yourself only moments ago.”

Gabrielle’s eyes widened in outrage. “Spy!”

He made a show of glancing down at the tag. “Oh look, it’s in your size,” he said as he waved it in front of Gabrielle. 

“So what? I’m not wearing that.” Then, obviously still a bit raw about him spying on her--though she should have been used to it by now--she crossed her arms over her chest and announced, “I’m not some doll you can dress up.”

That stung. He was not overbearing--not with her. Never once had he even implied that he wished to control her. His jaw tightened as he forced the smile to remain on his face. In an accent he had not used in years, he struck back, “Ye loved ‘em when ye were a young lass. Mayhaps yer distaste fer ‘em is due ta a certain Scot next door leavin’ ye wantin’?”

Becky took to fanning herself. 

His mate, on the other hand, pursed her lips and fixed him a scowl.

Had he gone too far poking such tender places? Lucifer swallowed back her insult and the injury he sustained, and offered an olive branch. Using the excuse to close some distance between them, Lucifer lowered his voice and leaned in. “Oh, come on, Gabrielle.” He hoped using her given name would assuage some of her hurt feelings. “You’re not still sore over Dougal, are you?” He had taken the form of a mysterious foreigner next door while she was budding to better protect her virtue during such a hormone-driven time. 

As tough as nails, she asked, “No, are you?” 

He furrowed his brow in confusion. 

A small catlike smirk spread across her lips as she quietly purred, “You could have gotten in my _ high-waisted  _ pants as him.” She glanced over to oblivious-Becky and wet her lips as she added, “But then you had to go and ruin it by being you.” 

Lucifer’s chest tightened as she crushed his heart, yet again. When he masked himself as Dougal it was because his intentions were good. His mate had not yet matured, and had reached a pivotal time in her life. It would have been reckless to remain in the shadows and let her make impulsive decisions simply because she was uninformed and had urges to tend. He had meant to distract her attention from other men as she discovered herself and protect her from their unwanted advances. Anyone else would have acted similarly in his position. 

He staggered back a step and cleared his throat. His eyes dropped to the floor as he sought a way to recover. To even suggest taking her virginity as Dougal, when her pubescent body was still developing, showed just how little she thought of him. He had hurt her, yes. But he had also been there for her. Why couldn’t she bring herself to look past his trespasses and see that? 

She had done so once.

Lucifer began to withdraw into himself, an icy blue shield raising to conceal the brown iris that paired with hers. If she was determined to turn his love for her into some sort of perversion, then he had no interest in leaving himself so open. 

She was much more perceptive now than she had ever been in her youth, however, as she suddenly softened. Whether she noticed that his eyes had turned or she could just sense the change in him, he was not sure. “If I try it on, will you quit stalking me in stores?” She asked with absolutely no bite. 

It was not an apology, though probably as close to one as she would ever offer. The mere fact that she cared enough to even bother with such a concession was encouraging. The urge to gather her in his arms and whisper a sincere,  _ thank you _ , was great. She would only cringe if he did and it would ruin the moment so he let her have the safety of his expected flirtation. Waggling his brows, he teased, “Only if you model it for me.”

“Fiiine,” she groaned, snatching the garment from him to march back into the fitting room. 

The smile dropped from Lucifer’s face as he stood there blinking at the closed door. She had given in rather quickly--much more so than he had anticipated. Gathering his wits, he smiled at Becky politely to hide his shock over Gabrielle’s easy acquiescence. 

Having not heard their whispered barbs, only seeing the way they looked at each other, Becky sighed contentedly. “You two seem like such a great couple.”

He wanted to say that they would be if only Gabrielle would give them another chance. Instead, he simply repeated, “She’s my soulmate.”

Becky gushed. “It must have been love at first sight.” 

“It was,” he answered honestly to himself as she excused herself to help another customer. Though, it had not been the sort of love at first sight he had been expecting. 

At the time, Lucifer had come to believe his soulmate was a woman by the name of Helen, which meant, ‘the bright one.’ It seemed entirely appropriate that his soulmate bear that name, as he was the ‘bringer of light.’ This similarity was interesting, but ultimately would not save her life--that was due to another factor entirely. Lucifer had originally resolved to kill her as a means of thumbing his nose at his maker. Also, the woman was heavily pregnant, so clearly God was having a laugh of his own, which only made her a bigger target. 

Helen was married to a William Darby--who went by Bill because he thought William was too stuffy. Even with a nine-to-five job and a white picket fence in the burbs (thanks to his christian connections) he still liked to strum his guitar in the garage and muse on what life would have been like if he had not traded in his ripped jeans for button up shirts.

Lucifer could see why Bill had chosen Helen over a failing music career. She was great marriage material--pretty in an understated way, raised with the same values, and as long as he continued to win the bread, she was quite supportive of his various interests. There was love between them in the way Bill listened to her babble about her students (she taught second grade) and the way she always tucked little notes into the lunches she packed for him. 

Lucifer might have disliked their connection if he could bring himself to care even an ounce for her. He had watched her for over a week, strangely almost hoping to feel something. He should have been thankful that he did not--killing her would be even easier this way--except that it made him question whether or not he had lost the ability to love. After all, if Lucifer could not bring himself to feel even the slightest sliver of affection for a creature he was destined to adore, was he capable of such a feeling anymore?

More than a couple of times, the idea of confiscating her had entered his mind. By rights, she was his, even if she was too ignorant to know it and he felt no real desire for her anyway. It wasn’t as if  _ Bill  _ posed any real threat. Keeping her was practical. It would allow him more time to explore this issue of love--or lack there of --before he ended her. Each time he considered it, however, he decided it was a waste of time and energy. Getting back at God took precedence over finding out if he had gone completely numb. 

So on one rainy night, with a new moon darkening the sky, Lucifer handed Capala the keys to his car. He poured himself a drink and sat back to watch the Darbys travel the winding road home, tailed by a ‘crazed driver’ in an expensive sports car. Lilith even joined him with a box of snow caps to share. 

When the brakes screeched and the tires spun, the sound of metal crunching echoed into the night sky. The Darbys’ subaru station wagon was totaled, wedged between a tree and a large rock some twenty feet from the road. Capala raced off quickly to avoid attention, leaving the Darbys to die in their bucket seats. Mortals are so fragile, he needn’t have done anymore than that anyway.

“He’s such a good boy,” Lilith praised, popping another candy in her mouth. She was always doting on her demons. 

“Mm.” His response was non-committal as he waved the window closed, finished with his private viewing. 

Lilith rose behind him. “What’s wrong?” 

He ignored her, feeling nothing. Still. While he had not fallen in love with Helen, he had expected to feel at least some degree of loss when her heart stopped. It was a price he was more than willing to pay to screw God, and the fact that he had not needed to, nettled.

After an hour had passed, he could take no more and opened another window to Earth. He planned to stare at her corpse until he finally felt the satisfaction or pain he was determined to. What he had not planned on, however, was that Helen had survived. 

Or that the crash had put her into premature labor. 

No wonder he felt nothing! She was very much alive and still a threat to him. "If you want something done right," he growled, ripping the window wider to step through. 

He disguised himself as a doctor and charged into her delivery room. Bill stood beside her, his head wound bleeding through all his bandages as he gripped her hand.  _ Good boy, my ass, _ Lucifer thought to himself, mocking Lilith’s words. Capala failed to kill even the male. 

Lucifer gave them a fake name and pardoned the doctor positioned between her legs. He gave off enough authority and influence that no one questioned him. Pulling up a stool, he spread Helen’s knees and stared at the crowning ginger head in front of him. It was a grotesque image he had seen countless times since Adam fattened Eve with his seed. Lucifer would deliver this baby to get both it and everyone else out of the way, and then he would ensure that his mate bled out on the table. That sort of thing happened all the time to humans. Bill would choke on his tears and thank the lord the child had been spared at least. He might even enjoy being a widower, accepting pity sex from lonely housewives that stopped by with casseroles and offered to do a load of laundry for him.

“Come on, Helen. One more big push,” Lucifer coached her for their audience, letting his sneer hide behind the face mask. 

She drew a deep breath and pushed with every ounce of energy she had left. Mammalian grunts forced through her clenched teeth as she tore in two places. Lucifer held the infant’s tiny skull in his hands and helped to ease it free. Once past the shoulders, it was quick moving. The infant was silent and covered in vernix--disgusting really. 

“Is it alright?” Helen gasped, trying to look over her deflated belly. 

“Yes,” he assured her as he rubbed the baby with a towel. The sooner he got it breathing, the sooner the crowd would disperse and he could finish his business with Helen. After vigorous rubbing, the infant coughed, it’s little chest expanding and contracting. “It’s a girl,” he announced, because it was customary to do so. 

Bill sniffed back tears, too much a man to let them escape. “She’s beautiful like her mother.”

About to hand the child off, Lucifer froze when her eyes cracked open. Hers were the mirror image of his own, and that rattled him to his core. An overwhelming wave of love and devotion washed over him. His chest could barely contain his heart for how much it swelled. Warmth filled cracks and crevices he hadn’t even known were there, and he was rendered speechless. She was quiet, cradled in his arms, watching him as intently as he was her. He knew in that instant that he would lay down his own life for this single creature--his other half. 

He suspected that once she matured he would feel a more physical attraction to her, but until then, just caring for her was enough. He wanted to take her home with him to protect her and keep her close. 

"Doctor?" 

Tearing his eyes from her, he looked up at the nurse who gave him a strange look. "What is it?" 

She reached for the baby and he almost ducked out of the way. That would have been too obvious a maneuver, so he remained still as she took the child. "The Darbys would like to meet their daughter," she said with a smile. 

The moment his soulmate left his arms, she let out a loud wail in protest. She too had been drawn to him. He grinned stupidly at the end of the bed, watching the Darbys croon over his mate as she boasted her lung capacity.

A bell chimed on the overhead speaker announcing her live birth for the whole hospital to hear and he rose from his stool. Lucifer was about to come around the bed to gaze further upon her when a small gust of wind hit his face and the air suddenly felt devoid of something imperative. A quick glance around him confirmed that the mortals had not noticed the change in atmosphere.

Another celestial being lurked in the delivery room as everyone carried on around him. If God had sent one of his angels to look upon the face of Lucifer’s soulmate, then he had done so to guard her from him. Lucifer would have been offended by that, if he hadn’t planned her demise moments before. Once their eyes met, however, all the anger and malice he held for his father left him and he felt nothing but the call of her soul to his. He could never harm a hair on her head.

Pursing his lips behind the mask, he wondered who this guardian angel would be. Who would dare stand between him and his mate? It was a fool’s errand to pit, any one angel against him, as he was stronger than them all whether he was in exile or not.

As Helen brought her to her breast, Lucifer knew she needed the Darbys. As much as he wanted to snatch her up and let the days waste away staring into her eyes while he learned all her favorite things, he knew that she must be raised by her own kind first. 

That didn’t mean that he couldn’t watch over her, however. With both him and a guardian angel of her own, she would be the most protected human on the planet. 

“Have you picked out a name?” One of the nurses asked. 

Lucifer almost said no, as if he were the one being addressed. Helen paused as she looked down at her daughter. The air grew thick with essence and every muscle in Lucifer’s body grew taut, feeling the angel’s influence over the Darbys.

Helen lifted her head, smiling as she declared, “Gabrielle.” 

Lucifer silently cursed as he ripped the mask off his face and flung it in the trash can. Gabriel. Of course. He always did have quite the affinity for humans. It made sense that God would send him to look after his soulmate. Forcing each foot to lift off the floor and carry him out into the hall, Lucifer waited until he felt his brother’s presence following behind. 

As soon as Gabriel materialized, Lucifer pinned him against the wall by his throat. “My soulmate was not created for your amusement.” 

“Never said she was,” he hissed back, his messy brown hair getting in his face. He didn’t bother to fight back, not quite feeling threatened enough.

“ _ Gabrielle _ ?” Lucifer repeated in disgust.

Gabriel chuckled. “I thought it was a nice touch.” 

Lucifer’s grip tightened and Gabriel jabbed his ribs a few times until he released him. It was hardly a scuffle, just enough to get their points across. A true fight between angels would have turned the hospital to rubble. 

Running a hand through his hair, Lucifer narrowed his eyes at Gabriel and warned, “You had better do your fucking job right with her.” She might not have needed protection from him, but being that she was now forever linked to him, she was surrounded by potential threats.

Gabriel saluted in his condescending way. “Aye aye, captain.”

Everything was a game to him. Lucifer clenched his fists and warned, “Listen you-”

“Well?” Gabrielle asked, interrupting Lucifer from his memories. “Are you happy now?” 

His eyes landed on her creamy thighs first and then he forced himself to meet her gaze. She scowled at him, as if she couldn’t be more put out by this exercise. Though, there was a twinkle in her eyes that told him she wouldn’t mind a compliment, and he smirked confidently as he approached. “I need a closer look,” he lied. 

“You have perfect eyesight,” she argued. 

“What makes you say that?” 

“Aside from the fact that you’re immortal?”

“Yes.” He took a leisurely stroll around her, drinking her in, drawing the moment out. 

She sucked in a breath, feeling everywhere his eyes touched. “Because I have perfect eyesight, so if I do, then you…”

She trailed off and he let out a soft chuckle. Admitting their bond was no easy feat for her. “It pleases me when you accept us,” he said, because it was true and just maybe she was vulnerable enough to allow herself to hear it. 

“I’m not buying this,” she insisted. 

“Of course you aren’t,” Lucifer agreed, letting her change the subject. “I would never dream of asking you to fund my fetishes.” 

She rolled her eyes and turned her head so he wouldn’t see the corners of her mouth tugging into a smile best kept hidden. Too late. 

“You said you would leave,” she said, her voice giving the slightest indication that she might not wish such a hasty exit on his part. 

Lucifer tucked his hands in his pockets to keep them from tracing over her bare shoulder. “And I will.” Her eyes captured him as they had on the day she was born. What contained only wonder and promise before, now held knowledge and experience--seasoning. Gabrielle had lived and when she looked upon him now, it was not only because their connection forced her too. Deep down, no matter how much she hated him for who he was and what he had done, she still wanted him. Or else, she would not look at him the way she did. 

His lips curled into a triumphant grin. “If you still want me to.”

Her breath hitched and it was such a subtle movement that most might not have caught it. Lucifer saw everything. He was applying pressure and he knew it wasn’t easy for her. 

It wasn’t the innuendo that gave her pause--their conversations were often rife with them. It was the timing of it, and the delicacy with which he chose to deliver it. The words weren’t crass, which only made them that much more unwelcome. They were neither lust-filled, and they referred only to time spent in each other’s company--something he hadn't been brave enough to offer since she rejected him. She had never seemed even remotely willing to entertain the possibility before and though she hardly seemed willing now, she was. 

Slowly, she made herself say, "I do."

Lie.

His eyes flashed to tell her as much, and then to let her off the hook, he took a step back. “Try not to steal anything.”

Her hesitation was quickly replaced with irritation. It was not indignation, he knew, because she was quite likely planning on theft before he arrived and drew attention toward her. 

“Fuck you!” She growled and stalked back into the fitting room, dismissing him. 

Lucifer drew a deep breath and walked away, taking delight in the progress they had made for the day. He caught Becky on his way out and slid her a black card--or at least a card she thought was a black card. “Despite whatever she walks to the counter with,” he said, pointing back at his mate. “Charge every item she tries on to this card and have everything delivered to this address.” 

Becky’s eyes grew wide with dollar signs. “Are you offering lessons?”

“Excuse me?” 

“On how to be the best boyfriend ever,” she explained, giggling as she accepted the card. 

Lucifer smiled and turned away from the counter. He had not taken two steps before he felt him. “Gabriel.”

“You can’t buy Gabby’s love,” he said, materializing beside him. 

Letting Gabriel scramble to catch the door before it smacked him in the face as he walked behind, Lucifer gave an exaggerated sigh. “I was simply cutting down on petty theft.” 

“She does that as a cry for attention, you know,” Gabriel said, his sneakers slapping the pavement. 

“Is that your diagnosis, Dr. Phil?” Lucifer teased, avoiding the question that burned inside. Who’s attention was she trying to get with such behavior? “That aside, you can hardly fault me for clothing my mate--providing for her needs.” 

Gabriel took a couple of quick steps to get ahead of him, and began walking backwards so he could look at him as he challenged, “And she  _ needed  _ a mini skirt?”

Lucifer rolled his eyes at Gabriel’s grunge-rock look. He always tried too hard to be human when he could have simply allowed them to drool over him instead. “No, she needed the company.” 

“I doubt it was yours she needed,” he challenged again.

What had gotten into him? 

Lucifer came to a stop, letting Gabriel bump back into a young couple behind him. “She’s always alone.”

Gabriel’s eyes narrowed. “And who’s fault is that, brother?”

How much longer would Lucifer be made to pay for his crimes? If God was anyone to go off of, forever. Refusing to let that shake him, he lifted his chin and chided, “It’s not good for her.”

Before Gabriel could respond, Lucifer tore open a window to Hell and stepped through. He did not need to hear of all his shortcomings again--his mate told him often enough. 


	9. Stardust

**Five Years Ago**

College was nothing like the movies, though it certainly tried hard enough to be. Instead of the entire campus going full-blown party after lights out, it was really only a couple of frat houses and private off campus apartments. At least, that was Gabby’s speculation, of course. She could not say so for sure because in her seven weeks as a college freshman, she had never actually been to a party. That didn’t faze her, however, as she was used to being somewhat of an outcast in high school--especially after she had not done _ the deed _ with Todd, or any boy thereafter.

Needless to say, it came as quite a surprise to Gabby when her roommate randomly decided to invite her. It was still early enough in the semester that quiet nerdy girls like Gabby were still given the chance to discover beer pong and body shots. Though, that window was closing fast. Unfortunately for her, her roommate, Blythe Bently--yes, heiress to Bently Motors--was determined to not only catch it for her, but hold it open and cram her through it. 

Blythe was like that though. A straight up rebel who gave zero fucks. She had pissed mommy and daddy off enough to get sent to state college and relegated to the dorms like a commoner. She never had said what she had done wrong, and Gabby had been raised better than to ask. Instead, Blythe would explain--ad nauseum--whenever introducing herself, “It’s totally temp. Just a single semester to make a point. Daddy loves to bluster and Mommy Heather will go along with anything to keep herself in Prada.” 

Despite the billions, Blythe’s home life sounded horrible, but Gabby would never say as much. It did, however, make her feel extra grateful for her own sweet parents. They would never dream of punishing her by sending her away for four months. They loathed the distance as it was, and would never opt for it for any other reason than her future. They also wouldn’t steal the educational opportunity away from someone who could have actually benefited from it. Bill and Helen had integrity no matter what tax bracket they fell in. 

Blythe didn’t cry over her plight, however. Instead, she made the most of it and took her father’s credit card to shop her way into some fast popularity. With her bankrolling booze, an open invitation with a plus one option to the frat houses came as no surprise. It also should not have come as a surprise that after only ever sticking to the library and a small coffee shop off campus that served real scones (not the mass-market prepackaged crap the shop in the student union sold) Gabby had been informed by Blythe that she had enough. 

“I’m seri Gab!” She talked like they were best friends, when in reality, Blythe was in the dorm maybe a full two days out of the week. Why she still bothered attempting a friendship with Gabby spoke to how truly lonely she was exiled away from her real rich friends. “This turtle-hiding-in-its-shell routine has officially gotten old,” she exclaimed as she exasperatedly picked at Gabby’s books on her desk.

“Hey, stop. I need to study.” 

“You so don’t. Midterms are over.”

“How would you know? You never showed up to yours.” Yeah, okay, so Gabby could be a little catty too when the situation called for it. Staying away from people for the most part kept her from ever really needing to bare her claws. 

Blythe hissed playfully. “Wow, someone’s out of her comfort zone.” Then she plopped down on the bed and promised, “I’m not trying to corner you, sugar plum. Just trying to get you to loosen up a little. I’m here as a punishment, yet you’re the one living like a convict.”

Gabby scoffed, hating how true her words were ringing. 

“No, legit.” Blythe laughed. “Like, do you see the light of day? Prisoners at least get time in _ the yard. _ And fuck, I’m 99.9% certain you haven’t gotten any dick since you got here either.” And just like that, the air seemed so much heavier all of a sudden. Blythe sensed it immediately and whipped her head around to stare Gabby straight in the eye and ask, “Or, ever?” 

Gabby crossed her arms over her chest and pursed her lips. She knew if she spoke a word, it would give her away. Her words would be too squeaky, her defense too weak, and her mouth too dry. Fuck this rich bitch roomie who shined a spotlight on such a huge insecurity. Why did she have to choose tonight to care about the hermit she shared a dorm with? 

In the end, her silence didn’t protect her the way she had hoped. Blythe slapped her hand over her mouth. “Well, take my black card and deny me Coachella--are you serious?” 

Gabby said nothing, which _ again _said everything. 

“Not even that hottie you hang with Gabe?” Blythe asked--more for herself than for her. It was obvious she had a crush on Gabriel, since the day he helped her carry things into their dorm. The fact that she kept from making a move on him, spoke more to her character than Blythe probably would have liked. She did like coming off more mean-girl than she really seemed to be. 

Secretly, Gabby was grateful she never tried anything. Gabriel would have only let her down and then it would have been awkward between them for the rest of the semester. Gabriel was never interested in girls, despite them throwing themselves at him constantly. He wasn’t interested in guys either, for that matter. Instead, he focused on music and movies, and hobbies, and pretty much everything under the sun but basic human sexuality. Sometimes she wondered if her oldest friend even knew he had a penis.

“Well, Gabs, we’re fixing that shit right now,” Blythe declared, running to her closet. 

“I don’t want to screw Gabriel,” Gabby attempted to deflect. 

“Obviously, or you would have by now.” Blythe rolled her eyes. “Doesn’t mean you’re immune to other dick.” She craned her neck back out of her closet to raise a brow dramatically. “Or are you?” 

“Ha. Ha.” 

Blythe pulled a short sparkly number out of her closet and tossed it at Gabby. “Here, put this on. I always get loads of D whenever I squeeze into this.” 

Gabby bit back the urge to point out the word _ loads _as she pinched the dress between her thumb and index finger, peeling it off her shoulder. It was time to set at least one ground rule in this awkward, forced, friendship-thing. “I’ll go, but I’m wearing my own clothes.” 

Blythe squeed with glee. “It’s about time you crawled out from under one of your books, and dare I say, on top of someone?” 

It was not as if the idea of finally losing her v-card wasn’t at least a little appealing, and Gabby had definitely had opportunities over the years. Though, strangely, every time she was faced with a willing participant, she got cold feet. It was as if she were waiting for someone in particular. Someone she had not met yet.

Sex was just supposed to be sex--unless she was talking to her mother, of course. The reality was that everyone did it. Yet still, there was something so intensely intimate about stripping your clothes off and exposing yourself to someone else. The sheer vulnerability involved in giving everything you had to someone and hoping it was enough, seemed far too great for her to allow. Not to mention the fact that she knew her first time would be painful and what if she was a dud in bed? It hardly seemed fair that she should have to worry about whether or not she was good at something she’d never done before while some random tore her hymen apart. 

Just thinking about it had her wanting to cover her face and hide. 

Which was why she had decided a couple of years back, after her sexy bachelor neighbor pulled Todd off her in a parked car, that she could only put herself through that with someone she could survive being so embarrassed in front of--someone she clearly hadn’t met yet. Considering the fact that the majority of her friends lost their virginity when they were fourteen and fifteen, she felt ancient at the ripe old age of eighteen, but things like this couldn’t be rushed. She would go to this party to shut Blythe up, and to check ‘go to a frat party’ off her college bucket list. If she was lucky, Blythe would be too distracted by the school’s football team to notice her _ not _shagging anyone. 

“Oh, and text Gabe to come too!” 

No text was necessary. As soon as they walked in, she spotted Gabriel stationed at the beer pong table through the open archway into the next room. With his messy man bun in place and a blue and grey baja hoodie scrunched up to his elbows to expose all the woven bracelets around his wrists, he was hyper focused on the game. In the short time they had been in school, it had become his favorite pastime. 

She could tell from the slight raise of his brow that he knew she was there, despite his laser focus on the solo cup in front of him. The fact that he didn’t leave his game to see her, told her he might actually be a little cool about her being there. There were times her best friend could be as bad--if not worse--than her parents, when it came to protecting her from the rest of the world. To his credit, Gabriel had been there through all of her hardest times an therefore had earned the right to be protective. 

He had seen her crying in her bunk when Candace Sturgess taunted her at camp, that time she picked a wedgie during the spring concern and some little shit in the audience thought it would be funny to post it online in a replay loop, the color high in her cheeks after almost losing her virginity to Todd and getting shot down by a man twice her age. 

Like it or not, Gabriel had been there whenever she tried to socially engage and every single time she landed flat on her face. Like clockwork, he would peel her off the ground and cheer her up. Why was she so awkward? Why couldn’t she fit in anywhere? At this rate, she should have been grateful for the interest Blythe took in her. 

And the small part deep inside herself that didn’t want to admit much of anything actually was. Did a frat party sound like fun? Probably not. But it definitely beat another night holed up in her dorm room eating Cheetos and binge watching Grey’s Anatomy before rubbing a quick one out--over the panties--only to fall asleep shortly thereafter. 

“Grab a shot!” Blythe yelled, breaking into her guilty thoughts.

Gabby looked down at the rainbow colored tray of jello shots in front of her. It looked like a scene straight out of every date-rape psa movie she’d ever watched in health class. Her first instinct was to politely decline. There was still the ugly inside thought kicking around her brain to contest it, _ At least this way I won’t have to worry about losing my virginity. Some asshat will make the decision for me--probably on top of a pile of coats somewhere. _

It was on that thought that Gabriel slung his arm over her shoulders and pulled her away from the rainbow. “Gabby doesn’t drink,” he said with an easy smile, as if it wasn’t strange at all for a healthy eighteen year old girl at a frat party to not drink. Okay, so maybe he saved her, but did he have to make her look like such a loser in order to do it? 

More than a little mortified, Gabby shrugged out of his embrace with much more attitude than was necessary. “What do you think you’re doing?” 

“Helping,” he stated the obvious. The confused look on his face told her he hadn’t the slightest idea why that would upset her. Thank god Blythe was too distracted to hear them. 

Gabby ducked her head and glanced around them, even more embarrassed by their bickering. Rihanna’s ‘Rude Boy’ pulsed through the speakers, urging sweaty, half-dressed coeds to bump and grind their crotches together with zero regard to who stood witness. Gabriel was right. She was so introverted it hurt, and in way over her head, but she’d be damned if she would admit that right now. He had no idea what it took for her to even cross the threshold to this party. How could he possibly understand how important it was for her to have someone--yes, even Blythe--like her enough to drag her out? He was Gabriel--_ Gabe _, the instant beer pong master, who had girls everywhere falling at his feet, and guys fist bumping him like they were best bros. It was all so stupidly effortless for him and he wasn’t strategically aloof--he just didn’t care. 

Also, little did he know, she had some Fireball in the car ride over. Blythe called it ‘pregaming,’ and Gabby needed to loosen up if she was ever going to survive such a crowd. So, she found her voice as she said, “You know what, _ Gabe _?” Eyeing the keg in the other room, she was determined to do something a little drastic. “I think I got it under control. Why don’t you take the night off? I don’t need a babysitter.” 

“Gabby, you know that’s not-”

“Save it!” She threw her hand up and stalked off. Straight for the beer.

Okay, so accepting a fresh solo cup of beer from the freckle-faced band geek working the tap wasn’t exactly Girls Gone Wild, but it was a start to her mini-rebellion. Taking two large gulps of the bitter beer she mentally validated her actions, _ He never understands. Space will do us good. _

Walking through the crowd, she plastered a smile on her face and tried to look approachable. To who--she wasn’t sure. She wasn’t manhunting like Blythe, maybe friend-hunting? If that was a thing. Groaning at herself for sounding so stupid and crazy, Gabby took another turn around the room to make sure Gabriel knew she meant business. 

She could tell he got her message loud and clear by the way he eyed her from his game. Guilt started to seep in and steal her sense of victory. Gabriel had been her closest friend and she was acting like a brat. It wasn’t a good look for her and he deserved better, and she knew it. She took a drink from her cup to hide her frown. Refusing to apologize so soon, she did a one-eighty and made for the closest exit, which just happened to lead out onto the back porch.

The fresh air cleared away the stench of hairspray, beer, and sweaty Victoria Secret perfume. The roar of cheers at Gabriel’s latest win was dulled by the thick insulation of outside walls and people stumbling around in the grass, drunk early enough in the night to poison. It was wrong to take some amusement in how screwed their night was, and yet Gabby was stifling a private smirk, regardless. 

Despite her parents’ determination to raise a good Christian girl, and her best friend’s resolve to shield her from all the nasty influences of the world, a smidgen of immorality lay deep inside Gabby. It wasn’t a festering black pit of pure evil like what dwelled inside animal abusers and child molesters, but instead a small charcoal smudge of not-so-perfect character. It made her smile when stupid people did stupid things and paid a consequence for it, from hangovers to parking tickets.

She told Gabriel about it once when she was much younger and the look he gave her switched very quickly from disturbed to tired and disappointed. “You have to fight against that, Gabby. Don’t let the darkness inside you take over.” 

The darkness?

He spoke with such severity, that he made it sound like there was an actual war between purity and corruption taking place inside her. Doubtful. Smiling when a kid that made fun of her every day fell off his bike, hardly seemed like she was on the cusp of selling her soul to the devil. She knew Gabriel was by nature quite serious--despite his jovial demeanor--but at a certain point it was overboard. 

Rolling her eyes at the memory of his ridiculousness, she was startled to hear, “Are the stars that absurd?” 

Though she had not noticed anyone approaching in her periphery, someone apparently had. A _ male _someone. Probably some horny dog who stumbled outside by accident and caught sight of an unsuspecting freshman all alone. Sighing deeply to herself, she considered many ways of losing his attention as she turned to face him. 

As soon as her eyes landed on his face, she froze. If his words had startled her, his beauty had even more. Yes-_ -beauty _. The man looked as if he had been plucked straight out of Heaven, assuming God allowed such beautiful creatures in Heaven. The temptation to sin around them would be too great, after all. 

This guy--whoever he was--was tall, and not just because she was sitting down, or because he had great posture. Though he wore a navy pea coat over a thick cable knit sweater and dark jeans--his whole vibe was really very Boondock Saints--she could tell he was built. Muscles kept that long tree trunk of a body from swaying in the breeze. He was no boy like the other freshmen she shared classes with, but instead a man...and he was _ solid _. 

She noticed all of these things out of the corner of her eye, never taking her full gaze off his face. She simply couldn’t, so arrested by its features. He had high cheekbones, a strong jaw, and a pronounced chin without even the slightest hint of a dimple. Thankfully. It was extremely hard for her to speak to anyone with an ass-chin without zeroing in on it throughout the entire conversation. His brows were thick, but still held an angle to them that accented the sharp lines of his face. They were darker blond than his hair--close cropped to his head and the color of spun gold. His eyes were raw honey that seemed to drizzle and swirl the longer she looked into them. Such warmth radiated from them, that she felt it in her own cheeks and had to stop herself from trying to cool them with the back of her hand, so lost in the glitter of his gaze. 

Realizing that she had not responded and they had been staring at each other in silence for far too long, she swallowed and made her mouth move. “I’m-”

“You’re Gabrielle.” He cut her off. If he was a kind man, it was to buy her more time to collect herself. “I’m Sam.” 

“My friends call me Gabby.” Why was she telling him this?

“Hmm, I think I like the sound of Gabrielle better.”

She liked the sound of it too--coming from his lips. Clearing her head she asked, “Wait, how do you know my name?” College was not like high school. People didn’t just know your name the way they did there. “_ Sam... _?” She elongated his name to question, very fill-in-the-blank style. 

“Just Sam for now,” he smirked--as if that was an acceptable answer. “We don’t know each other well enough for last names. You haven’t decided my intentions yet.”

Intentions? Who spoke like that? Friend-potential didn’t. They made small talk and poked at common interests until real bonds were forged. He sounded like a suitor coming to court her in the eighteen hundreds. Scoffing at the idea, she teased, “Intentions? Wow, that’s rather forward of you.” 

“I believe in being direct,” he said, not the slightest bit embarrassed by being called out. 

Scooting over when he made to sit down, she did not remember inviting him to sit, yet he perched beside her as if she had. “Well then, allow me to be extremely direct,” she said, absolutely hating how hard it was to take her eyes off him, and needing to gain some control back. “If you know my name, you’ve noticed me before.” 

He nodded, not even trying to deny it.

Nerves started jumping in her belly at his admission and she gripped the bench as she ventured further. “And you probably had to ask around to get my actual name.”

His eyes finally broke from hers to discover her other assets. “It does stand to reason.” 

Why did he sound so cagey when he said that? Perhaps he didn’t want her to realize how much work he might have actually gone to in order to learn her name.

The idea that someone as sexy as he actually put some effort into knowing her turned her on. She crossed her arms over her chest to hide her hardened nipples. She had always been a little shy with men--especially flirtatious ones, though, something about him made her a little more daring. Unable to put her finger on it, she asked, “When did you first notice me?”

He chuckled and looked away. Had she just made him uncomfortable? Gabby had never turned the tables on a man before. It was rather empowering. 

“Second day of school,” he admitted, watching the drunk stragglers meander over the lawn. “You were at the school bookstore, standing in line with some guy in old-school sneakers and patches on his coat--not because he needed them, but to be ironic or some idiotic reason like that.” He shook his head and smiled, lost in this memory of her. “I didn’t think he was your boyfriend, but I have a feeling that it would have been more convenient for you if I had.”

He turned to face her and she didn’t have the opportunity to ask why before he explained, “You don’t like attention, could tell that right away. I’m not sure why, but if I had to guess, it’s because you’ve had a lot of the wrong kind for a long time.”

Ouch. And yes. 

Gabby blinked, her mouth going dry. How could this stranger see her so clearly? 

“Not many guys show their hand so easily, so I’ve probably just freaked you out a bit--and rightfully so.” He grinned and added, “Not that you need my approval.” 

_ Showed his hand? _What was this guy’s game?

Gabby tried to find the words. What witty comeback was there for something like that? Luckily, Sam was on a roll, rambling away. “I was astounded to see you at this party, and knew something had made you brave in order for you to show up.” 

He wets his lips, allowing her notice how delectable they looked. They were full enough to feel good, but not too pouty that they verged on feminine. This man was so hot that everything was melting, his honey eyes, molasses drenched voice--her insides. One pair of panties simply would not cut it around him. 

This was absolute madness. Every brain cell in her head was telling her to run a hundred miles in the opposite direction, and every nerve ending in the rest of her body was tingling to keep her there. He was sexy, but there were tons of sexy guys on campus. Guys that had smiled at her and she had timidly avoided. Why was he so different? Perhaps it was because he was at least upfront about things, whereas other men never spoke aloud what they grasped for.

He smirked as he added, “Which, to be completely honest, works out for me because I knew I would stand a better chance when you were feeling brave.” 

“Stand a better chance?” She repeated him, trying desperately to listen to the neurons firing in her brain. There was forward and then there was _ forward _.

He leaned in and the scent of cinnamon and cloves filled her nostrils, making her forget her brain entirely as he teased, “Don’t play coy now.”

“I, uh.” She ran her sweaty palms over her jeans. “Um, I just...”

He drew a deep breath and looked away again, giving her a break. “Oh no. My approach was too direct. Now she’s planning her escape.” 

She probably should have been doing just that, but for whatever reason, she wasn’t. Normal Gabby would have. Instead, this new bold Gabby--who apparently hated logic--allowed a small smile to pull at the corners of her mouth as she whispered, “Stalker.”

The word was an accusation, one that could very quickly douse whatever flames his interest had been fanning. She enjoyed the possibility of being watched by him, however, being that she had never met someone like him before. Her desire was easily read and he gave a relieved chuckle. “There’s no use in fighting nature.”

Gabby laughed--outright--at that. “Who says that?” Her sense of humor was her only defense. It would put a little distance between them, cool things a bit, and remind her why she should keep her clothes on. She held a hand up and explained, “What man in his right mind, admits to being a stalker?” What she didn’t say was that if all bad men looked like him, she could understand why women got in the van. 

His pupils dilated as he leaned in close enough that she could feel the warmth of his breath on her shoulder. “Men are hunters.”

Goosebumps climbed from her shoulder up to the nape of her neck. A shiver shot through her and her nipples--already hard, turned painfully so. The ache low in her belly had her speaking before she could consider the consequences. “Are you hunting me, Sam without-a-last-name?”

“Most definitely.” His voice was so low now that she had to read his lips to make the words out.

Gabby sucked in a breath, thinking of those lips on her. How had they gone from introductions to her shamelessly considering crawling in his lap. Would he like that sort of thing? Or was he the type to sit beside his girlfriend and hold her hand through a movie instead? What if he was so controlled and reserved that he took his seat across the room from her, declaring something stupid like, “We’re just as much of a couple no matter where we sit.” She had a brief boyfriend Dan who was like that and it irritated her. Sitting in a lover’s lap was not about validation, but instead affection. 

Wait. Boyfriend? Lover? 

_ Down girl _, she mentally chided herself. This guy was doing her head in, his obvious pursuit was too much too fast. She instantly began to play with the cubic zirconia ring on her finger. It was meant to look like an engagement ring and her mother had given it to her to ward off unwanted attention. For the most part, she kept it in her jewelry box because she found she did not need the ring to avoid notice. However, being that this was her first college party, she had dug it out and slid it on just incase. “You really do believe in being direct, don’t you?”

“Life is short, and I’ll never kiss the girl if I don’t try.” 

“With that mentality, you must kiss a lot of girls.” She didn’t know what possessed her to say that. Or any of the other things she’d allowed to slip out, for that matter. 

He smirked, as if reading her mind. “All the wrong ones.”

Intrigued, she asked, “And why is that?” 

He tilted his head in her direction and cocked a brow. “Would you like me to say that I’ve been waiting on you?”

Color flooded her cheeks. She was young and inexperienced, but even she knew she needed to cool things down so he wouldn’t get his hopes up and think she was a sure thing. The small less-than-pure voice in her head asked, _ Why? _ Hadn’t she just been toying with the idea of a one-night stand not two hours prior? She couldn’t hang on to her virginity forever, and as far as attraction went, this guy fit the bill. Still, she had held onto it this long for a reason. 

“Look,” he stopped her from thinking too long. “I’ve screwed a lot of women because I could, and they were all wrong because I never wanted them. You on the other hand, are different.”

“Because?”

“Because I actually do want what you have to offer.” 

Trying to diffuse the situation with humor she asked, “Crushing student loan debt?”

Refusing to allow her such reprieve, he said, “You’re one of a kind--you do your own thing.” 

“How do you know that? How do you know anything about me?” For a hot minute, she really did start to wonder if he was stalking her. How had she not noticed this sexy beast lurking in the shadows? 

He made a point of dropping his gaze to her chest as he asked, “Do you realize that you’re the only girl here leaving something to the imagination?” He was of course, referring to her fully covered cleavage in relation to all the low-cut, skin-tight slut attire they were surrounded by.

“And you just love a challenge,” she quickly joked--evaded more like. Compliments were hard. 

He smirked. “_ And, _” he said, not denying it. “I love using my imagination more than what reality tends to offer.” He gave a quick glance to some ditz over his shoulder and Gabby stifled a laugh. 

“Hmm,” she sounded thoughtful. Never before had she thought sticking to her own style was playing hard to get, but perhaps men really were from Mars. “By that logic, you’ll only be disappointed by whatever I reveal.” She shuddered at the idea of taking her clothes off and letting him--or anyone--see the stretchmarks on her hips and breasts from that growth spurt she had one summer when her body decided it was time to become a woman all in one go. 

“Impossible,” he said so suddenly and severely that she started a little. Seeming to realize just how serious he grew, Sam shrugged and cracked another smile to lessen the impact and change the subject. “But let’s digress a bit. When I got here, you were looking at the stars--my favorite thing.” 

“They are?” 

“Yes. I’m an astronomy major--its kinda required that I like them, since I’m throwing all my future career prospects away to study them for four years.” 

She waited for him to laugh to show her that he was joking. Which he apparently wasn’t, so she bit the inside of her cheek to keep from commenting at first. Thinking of her mother and father’s thoughtful advice as she picked out her classes with their money, she offered, “Ahh. Well, I’m jealous. I, unfortunately, am not throwing my future away.” 

“I see.” He gave her a knowing look. The way it was tinged with sadness, she believed he actually might know. As if he could somehow see deep into her soul after a mere fifteen minutes of conversation. He drew a deep breath and said rather morosely, “You’re majoring in welding.” 

Gabby’s mouth fell open. 

He had given her a crumb of authenticity and she opted to nibble it up and engage, and how had he rewarded her? By teasing her! Gabby laughed and swatted at his arm, instantly regretting it. Feeling his hard bicep under all those warm layers had her imagining it holding her in place as he kissed her with those lips that kept drawing her attention, letting her feel every bit the swooning virgin she was. 

His eyes fell to her hand, now resting on his arm and his grin turned devilish. 

As quickly as if she touched lava, she recoiled and tucked the offending hand under her lap as she cleared her throat. “No. Nursing.” 

“Eww.” The face he gave her was dramatically disgusted. “Sick people coughing and bleeding on you all the time does not sound like a great career option.” He then sucked his teeth and looked like he was seriously considering something as he said, “On the plus side, if you work in the ER, I hear at least once a week someone shoves something interesting up their ass and can’t get it out.”

Gabby’s lips thinned. “You’re giving me so much to look forward to.” 

“Well, you could make stargazing a hobby if you want to get your mind off of all the chemistry classes and universal precautions.” Though he had toned back the flirting, the heat in his eyes remained.

Looking for something to say, Gabby blurted, “I can find the Big Dipper! But that’s about it.”

Sam chuckled at her sudden enthusiasm. “That’s because back in the day, idiots high on opium pictured things that no rational person could ever see out of small clusters of stars.” To illustrate his point, he gestured high in the sky. “Look, that’s Cepheus--named after a Greek king. It’s a pentagon with a tail. How does that look like a man?” He didn’t wait for her to answer before he judged, “Asinine.” 

He looked genuinely irritated and it was oddly cute. “I thought you loved the stars.” 

“I do. I just don’t like man’s attempt to own them.”

She refrained from reminding him that he was a man--knowing that would only lead down a rather _ forward _path, as he would probably remind her that she was a woman.

“They name them stupid names, trying to take ownership of them.” He hesitated before saying, “I’m not overly religious, but I do believe in leaving God’s creations to him.” 

“Oh, God didn’t create the stars,” she corrected him quickly. “Lucifer did.” And then she froze. Where did that come from? “Sorry, random fact from my old Sunday School days.”

He raised a brow in curiosity. He had said he wasn’t religious, and here she was totally bible-thumping him. Trying to dig herself out of that awkward hole, she explained quickly, “God made Lucifer and gave him the ability to create stars. Probably so he could work on other things, who knows.” She shrugged, trying to play it cool--as if bringing up religion was not taboo. 

Barely pulling herself out of her mortification to glance his way, she saw him gazing back at her with the sort of intensity a child has staring at a cupcake they can’t touch. “Is that so?” 

“Uh, yeah.” She said tucking her hair behind her ear, so ridiculously self-conscious. 

He must have sensed it because he cleared his throat and changed the subject. “You know how they say all matter in the universe has been recycled?”

“Huh?”

“All the elements that make up matter have been reused over and over throughout time,” he repeated by way of explanation. Gabby breathed easier, seeing him take a step out on the nerdy limb. He lifted his foot and nodded his head down to it as he continued, “So, like, the matter that make up my left boot might be the same matter that made up Julius Caesar’s nose.”

“I don’t think it works like that.” Gabby had never believed in reincarnation, but wondered if perhaps this was some sort of scientific way to make it acceptable. When she was little she reused lego blocks, it made sense that God would reuse some molecules.

“Oh, it definitely does,” he replied, amusement crinkling the corners of his eyes.

The sound of violent retching interrupted their little moment and Sam pointed at the jock puking his brains out on the lawn. “Millions of years from now, that vomit will probably make up part of a space station.” 

Gabby laughed, holding her sides. “That’s just gross. I don’t even want to know what you think I’m made of.”

His answer came quick and unequivocally, “Stardust.”

Her laughter died off as she locked eyes with him again. His answer was sobering and had her fidgeting with her mother’s ring again. 

He leaned in and observed in a low confidential tone, “You know, that ring only wards off the good guys.”

Breathing him in again, Gabby felt raw energy crackle between them as she hovered her face in front of his and asked, “What does that say about you, Sam?” 

“Everytime you say my name I think you might be liking me just a little more.” 

“You would think that would be enough incentive to tell me your last name.”

“And give up the mystery?” He rebutted. Gabby was just about to tell him that it was the twenty-first century and girls were too smart to think a ‘mysterious’ guy was anything but unsafe when he asked, “If I tell you my last name, can I see you after fall break?”

Gabby considered the magic of the moment they had been sharing, and the outline of his muscular thighs in those jeans. Yum. Perhaps tonight would fizzle in the light of day. He would look less the adonis he did now, and lack all his wit and charm. Maybe he’d lose all his courage and she would misplace her confidence. Taking the safe route, she said, “I’m sure we’ll see each other around campus.” His jaw twitched in disappointment and she quickly gave him a consolatory smile. “It’s always nice to see a friendly face.” 

To his credit, though he was obviously unimpressed with her answer, rather than get upset, he played it off. Clutching his heart in mock injury, he wailed. “Oh no! She friend-zoned me!” 

She rolled her eyes just as someone opened the door and another loud cheer sounded from the beer pong table. Apparently, Gabriel was still at it. It was quite fortunate that he was so distracted, because she shuddered to think what Gabriel would have thought of Sam. He was always disapproving of her romantic interests. Just imagining the frown on his face when he found her on the porch with him, had her excusing herself. “It’s getting late.” 

“It is,” Sam agreed, standing up. “Well, I guess it’s alright that you’re cutting me loose. It was going to be really hard explaining to my friends that I started dating a murderer.” 

“Murderer?”

He nodded, solemnly. “Oh, yes. You’re made of molecules that have been in space--probably the same space matter that crashed into Earth and ended the Cretaceous period.”

Scoffing, a reluctant smile dimpled her cheeks. “Well, I’m sorry you feel that way,” she said, because she wasn’t sure what else to. 

“Don’t be. I’m sorry you killed Little Foot and all the other dinosaurs,” he teased. 

She laughed as she shot back, “And I’m sorry you’re such a disappointment to your parents.” 

Ouch. Too far. She hadn’t meant to say something like that, it was only that he had been joking about it first. And it’s not like she did this flirting thing often. She still had her training wheels on for crying out loud! Gabby cringed as she gauged his reaction, waiting for him to be offended. 

While he wasn’t laughing, he wasn’t exactly crying in his cereal either. “Nah. It’s no sweat. My father doesn’t notice me enough to bother feeling disappointed.”

“Unlikely,” she said, not liking the seriousness of his tone or the fact that he wasn’t joking. Not even a little. Perhaps it was forward of her, but she didn’t like the idea of someone hurting him. His father--whoever he was--could go pound sand. 

As if he could read her thoughts, he gave her a sad smile. “And why is that?”

Swallowing, Gabby wet her lips before she mustered up the courage to say, “Because I’ve only just met you and I’m finding it extremely hard not to notice you.” 

Did she really just say that?

Yikes.

Where was the ‘backspace’ button for live conversations?!

The not-so-subtle smirk he gave her said,_ Sorry, babe. There’s no taking it back now. _ Thankfully, he also seemed to understand just how hard that was for her and was kind enough not to rub it in her face. “Does this mean I’m out of the friend-zone, Stardust?” 

If so, that was the fastest trip in and out she had ever seen. Also, he had just called her ‘Stardust’ like it was her name. This man was something else. Refusing to let him get too cocky, she clarified, “It means that if I see you around campus, I probably won’t try to act like I forgot who you are.”

Not letting that burst his bubble, he winked at her. “Gotta start somewhere.” 

“Goodnight, Sam.” Gabby walked past him, knowing he wouldn’t be the one to leave first. 

She glanced over her shoulder, drinking him in once more as he said in that thick, sexy voice, “Sleep well, Gabrielle.” 

  
  
  
  



	10. One in the Same

_ Her heels clicked on the black and white checkered marble floor, echoing loudly off the dark wood paneled walls that surrounded. Gabby reached out and slid her hand over a nearby column, bracing herself as she passed by. The stone was solid and cool under her palm and grounded her in the weightlessness of dream. The sweet scent of plums ripening on the vine wafted through the huge floor to ceiling windows and hung in the air. A familiar melody piped through speakers she couldn’t see, lulling her into a sense of ease.  _

_ This place was luxury at its finest, overlooking a gorgeous garden where the orchard trees bloomed a different fruit each time she visited. Painted on the cathedral ceiling above, was a mural of the night’s sky, letting the room feel almost limitless with the stars twinkling back if one looked long enough. That effect was aided, no doubt, by the yellow light from the fireplace. It shone against the golden filigree that decorated each bend and curve of the room, and took the chill from the air.  _

_ There was always a fire burning in this place. It was quite romantic and entirely meant to be. She figured that out eventually. The first few times she had come here, she would simply stand stunned--eyes wide--taking it all in, always seeing something she had not before. A new piece to the puzzle.  _

_ Clues to the questions she would always ask herself later: What is this place? Why did I come here? Who is he?  _

_ He, being the dark stranger that always joined her. He never spoke and though she would wonder about it later, it never bothered her in his presence. She too would remain silent while they were together, though for no other reason than that the quiet surrounding them felt oddly intimate. It was as if they were old friends who each had such knowledge of the other, that words were simply not necessary. Uttering a single question ran the risk of offending.  _

_ His solid warmth against her drove all lines of inquiry away. What more information did she need beside this? He would never harm her. She did not know his name, but she knew that for certain. It was a feeling, deep in her gut--the kind that holds more weight than facts or evidence. This man wanted her here with him and would protect her from whatever nightmare that tried to creep in.  _

_ One could argue that not only was he her protector, but also her savior. Each night that he came to her, he rescued her from her mundane life and showered her in these finer things. That was not to say that her life was an especially bad one, but it was certainly lacking. _

_ Smoothing her hand over the silk of her gown, Gabby worked to calm the butterflies beating against her insides. The first time she had noticed the sparkling diamond engagement ring on her finger, the air escaped her lungs. Now, she had grown used to seeing it and suspected that it might sadden her if it left her. He had never asked for her hand in marriage, but Gabby knew without question that it was his ring she wore.  _

_ They had not even kissed!  _

_ And yet, somehow her status as his bride was decided. Flattered to feel the desire of a man such as he, Gabby quickly grew to crave his attention. Though she had never said as much, he seemed to know this secret of hers, and crafty creature that he was, used it to his advantage. He was careful with how much attention her gave her, and how much he withheld.  _

_ Left her to stand all alone in the center of everything, she grew restless, feeling his eyes on her. She never knew how long he waited and watched--as time was so relative--before he sauntered out of the shadows. He took such cruel pleasure in making her wait, as if it was some sort of payback for an offense she did not remember committing. One that was not so great as to warrant any true malice, but that still required atonement.  _

_ It should have irritated her, made her deny him when he came for her in her sleep--it was always in her sleep that he came--in retaliation. Instead, knowing he was there but just out of reach, watching her every move, set those butterflies inside to flutter. Rather than insight her ire, his torture heated the blood in her veins, waking parts of her she had yet to share with another.  _

_ There was always a satisfied twitch to his lips as he reached for her, gathering her up in his arms and righting each ruffled feather. Each hand placed upon her staked his claim, telling her that she was his and had been all along. Since long before she could ever know. _

_ Perhaps she was.  _

_ Curled into him, she nestled her face in the crook of his neck, submitting to that possibility. She would let him feel how relieved she was to be in his embrace because she knew it would please him. Her approval and acceptance meant so very much to him. It was incredibly insecure--she knew, to need such validation, and yet she would do this to strengthen whatever it was that they shared.  _

_ While his hold was intimate, his hand on the small of her back never traveled down, over her backside. Even when enough time had passed that she had come to wish it would. Like a true gentleman, this man knew how to conduct himself. It was both a blessing and a curse as his unique cologne mixed with spicy cinnamon, drove her to madness. Staring at the divot in his collar bone, she almost pressed her lips to it, but never dared. _

_ Gabriel would have cautioned her against being alone with such a man. He would tell her how much more she was worth than to succumb carnal urges for the continued attention of a man like this. A man with a smoldering look that suggested if she had found some courage and turned her head on his chest to kiss that small patch of exposed flesh, it would unleash a beast--a ravenous one. One who would undoubtedly tear through her gown and devour her until she actually forgot how to breathe.  _

_ She hoped. And she didn’t.  _

_ Thankfully, her oldest friend was not here to judge the need this man stirred in her. In fact, he never followed her to this place. That was one of the ways in which Gabby knew that for as detailed and sensory as everything here was, it sadly, did not truly exist.  _

_ That and her shoes. With each loud foot fall on the marble, it was more and more apparent that this place had been fabricated from fantasy. Were it real, her feet would have been sore in these shoes. It was a detail her brain always seemed to miss each time it attempted to fool her with this dreaming. _

_ Sometimes, she continued this fantasy romance enough to pretend that not only was her companion real, but that he could not abide her discomfort and therefore took it away from her. She even went so far as to pretend that each time she had this dream, it was because he had missed her greatly and called her to him. She knew, however, that it was all just her brain twisting reality, abused by her hormones. Science and logic took the fun out of everything.  _

_ Caught in a loop, the same scene would unfold--her alone in this room until her silent suitor joined her and they danced the night away. Since the age of fifteen. Her waking hours were spent haunted by the need to reach a resolution to the dream and know the man commanding it. Dreams were where one worked through their unresolved baggage, and if he was only a symbol of something that troubled her, then she very much wanted to learn what it was. She would lay whatever demons lurking in her subconscious to rest.  _

_ A small part of her told her to let it be, lest their visits stop. _

_ Because these dreams had begun a couple of years into her puberty, Gabby assumed perhaps her brain was trying to impart a lesson regarding the opposite sex. The fact that it was a dark--male--stranger who visited, silently holding her close as he lead her around the dance floor, and put a ring on her finger, only further attested to that.  _

_ In the very beginning, he had not taken physical form, but was instead more of a sensation that enveloped her. It was comfort and understanding, and oddly, attraction. She would wake knowing what it was like to be held and deeply loved, though never remembering the arms that surrounded her. The first few times she experienced it were jarring as the feeling faded away and she was left to realize that she had not had that sort of love when she was awake. It was because of that sad fact, that Gabby learned to savor her dreams, carrying them with her through chem class, family dinners, disappointing dates, and so on.  _

_ They had become the perfect shield to hide behind and soon enough, not only was she dreaming at night, but daydreaming as well. She would replay each detail, stretching out each memory to make it last. After awhile, it wasn’t enough and she needed more material. Some new nugget to obsess about as she moved through her days.  _

_ Desperate to get it, Gabby took control of her dream for the first time ever. Just as she felt herself waking, she forced her eyes to crack open. That was the start of it all, how she came to know the mysterious man who dressed her in silk and jewels, and utterly adored her.  _

_ Her gaze first landed on a charcoal sleeve. She couldn’t tell much about the fabric other than that it belonged to a blazer and looked expensive. Needing more, she followed his arm all the way down to the tattooed wrist and hand that curled around her. Mostly obscured by his sleeve, she could not make out the full shape of the designs on his wrist and wondered if they meant anything. The ink on his thumb looked different from the ink on his wrist, though not out of place. It was a single black star, simple and small. Perhaps there was a story there. Would he ever share it with her?  _

_ Most of his fingers had rings on them with symbols she didn’t recognize. They were far from the class rings on the boys at school and the plain gold wedding band her father wore. This small detail alone told her that he was unlike any man she had ever known. Who was he to her then, and why had her subconscious made him up? _

_ For the longest time, she was afforded only this view of him. Each time she grew brave enough to lift her chin to see her mystery man’s face, she was torn from the dream. Had he not wanted her to discover his identity? If not, then it could only mean that her own mind did not want her to know him. Perhaps it was protecting her from the knowledge, which begged the question: Since when had she become so fragile? _

_ She had spent weeks never seeing him, only feeling him. Then she spent nearly a year seeing only his arm and chest and never his face. This slow reveal was killing her, especially since she had learned so much about him already and wanted more.  _

_ His arm locked around her, showed her that he was a strong, if not possessive man. The way he brushed his fingers over her cheek, told her he had a gentle side. Confident steps leading her in their dance, meant he knew what he wanted--even if she didn’t. His heart thumping against her ear, suggested he might desire her. His hands never wondering, promised he was patient. Respectful.  _

_ He was the perfect man and only when she realized it, was she able to look him in the eyes without waking. Startled by it, she blinked at him, trying to catalog every feature in her periphery as she stood stunned by his bright blues. Her heart sped up, completely unprepared for how severe they were--how easily they could slice through her. She had always sensed the undercurrent of power that radiated off of him, but the care he took with her was enough to put her at ease with such potency. His eyes, however, were a window to the raw energy that hummed inside him.  _

_ It was too much and something deep inside herself told her that it would consume her if she allowed it. If this was a challenge of some sort, she would not so easily fold. Not after all this time. A shiver ran through her as she forced herself to hold his gaze, silently damning her body for betraying her. It wasn’t fear that she felt staring into his rough, uncut crystal eyes, but instead a primal calling.  _

_ As always, he said nothing. Though, this time, his silence held much more amusement than normal. He knew her private struggle and seemed to appreciate her more for it. Finally, she was given a reprieve when her alarm went off, calling her back to life. Two pinpricks of light had been burned into her retinas and every time she closed her eyes, she saw his staring back at her.  _

_ After that, he came to her more freely. _

_ When she returned to the ballroom and felt his arms around her, she was able to look upon his face. He was a handsome man, his lips quirking to one side as if he knew a secret--a good one. He had jet black hair, and while he was not a black man, he seemed to have a slight tan that hadn’t come from sunbathing, and that beautiful combination only made the flames of his eyes glow brighter. It was unnatural, but did not bother her. If anything, they were more intriguing.  _

_ She opened her mouth to ask about them, but before any sound came out, his smile widened and he shook his head. Wide awake Gabby would have resented being shushed by a man, but that wasn’t was this was and she knew it--even if she didn’t know him. She returned his smile and pressed her lips together to show him that she was willing to play along.  _

_ Pleased with her acquiescence, he pulled her close and began their dance. It was the same music, same steps, and yet, it was all so very different. No longer tucked under his chin, she looked upon his face, tracing it with her eyes as the room moved around them.  _

_ Gliding across the floor, the door out to the veranda opened behind her and they were dancing through it. She gasped as the stars from the mural came to life, some recessed high in the sky and others hovering so much closer to her that she would have burned up if not for the fact that it was a dream. His cheeks dimpled as he watched her wide-eyed awe.  _

_ Only then realizing that her jaw had been hanging open, Gabby closed it and wet her lips as she turned her head to to take in the view from the balcony. He guided her to the railing and for the first time, released her from their dance. Punch drunk, she gripped the railing to steady herself while she took in the lush garden below. He stood close enough to her that she could feel his warmth against her back, and he trailed a fingertip down her arm as she looked on. It was a small gesture, one that reminded her that he was there--he was always there. It promised her that this place was beautiful for her, that everything was for her. There was also a question in it as well, wanting to know whether or not it pleased her. _

_ She would return his cruelty by declining to answer the obvious.  _

** _This place feels familiar_ ** _ , she wanted to say--because it wasn’t what he wanted to hear, and she had just been learning the art of playing coy--but didn’t.  _

_ Of course it was familiar. Her mind had created it, after all. The rules seemed simple enough--she could share in this place with him, provided their voices did not break the spell.  _

_ After that visit, things again changed.  _

_ Yes, it was the same room, same dress, same man, and same dance. Though, since seeing him for who he was, the dreams began to last much longer and allow for more. Sometimes they stood on the veranda together, and other times they stilled their dance to merely look upon each other. She reached out and traced the lines of his face with her finger to remember for later, and he placed a chaste kiss on the back of her hand before leading her to the stairwell. Before she knew it, they were in the garden, surrounded by the sweet scent of everything in bloom, the stars lighting their way.  _

_ Some nights, they spent the majority of it walking through the garden hand in hand, though they always danced first. She wondered if he insisted upon it as an excuse to hold her close. If so, he did not need one. As he made her wait less and less, she ran straight into his arms more and more, falling madly in love.  _

_ No boy at school compared. She had even had obligatory dates and short relationships, seeking what only her dreams were offering her, and never finding it. If Gabriel knew why she was so anxious to sleep at night, he never said. Her dream man seemed almost amused by her efforts and held her chin as he kissed her forehead. He only ever seemed jealous when she was involved with someone a bit more seriously, and even then she wondered if it was only because some part of her had wanted him to be jealous.  _

_ She wanted him to be real enough to want her as much as she did he.  _

_ Until Sam.  _

_ He was so different from her dream man, and yet the attraction she felt toward him coupled with the certainty with which he pursued her--in their very first meeting--had her thinking of him. What would her man think of Sam? Would he snicker at yet another attempt to find companionship outside of their clandestine meetings? Or would he feel threatened by the effect this one was having on her? _

_ She had returned to her dorm alone, her head filled with thoughts of Sam, her body nestled under the covers ready for sleep to bring her to her dark prince. When she arrived, her all-too-comfortable heels clicking on the marble, there was something off about the ballroom. Rows of golden chairs with padded white seats formed a wide aisle that she carefully stepped toward. Gauze wrapped around the columns and bouquets of blush colored peonies, champagne roses, and ivory gardenias accented the end of each row of chairs. _

_ The room was lit with every wall sconce, and a chandelier that hung from the center of the ceiling. She had seen it hanging there before, but it had never been lit. It was easier to see the mural of stars on the ceiling above it that way. Those stars were gone now and in its place was a mirror, reflecting her own image back down to her.  _

_ Her reflection...and that of a hundred other people filling the chairs around her. Gabby gasped and staggered back a step, bumping into something solid and warm. Arms wrapped around her, and a spicy cinnamon scent filled her nostrils. A voice purred in her ear. “They’re here for us.”  _

_ She froze, every muscle in her body drawn tight as she considered fighting. This voice sounded familiar, though she could not place where she might have heard it before. Her gaze darted around the room, taking quick stock of all the people that had appeared from the reflection. A cacophony of voices filled the echo as strangers leaned over in their chairs and spoke to each other. At the front of the room, she saw her parents turn in their seats and wave to her. _

_ “It’s my wedding.” She said it aloud, more to herself than to anyone else.  _

_ Because it was.  _

_ Every single detail. _

_ Like most girls, Gabby had spent years planning her future wedding to a groom she had not yet met, tucking small tokens inside the hope chest her father had given her: magazine cutouts of starry night skies and elegant cakes draped in edible pearls and lace, dried flowers from her neighbor’s yard for her bouquet, a silk scarf she fell in love with. She had seen how wonderfully it would all come together very clearly in her mind as she saved each item to call upon later when the right man came along. She would show the florist her flowers, the bakery her cakes, the dressmaker her scarf, and they would all know just what her teenage self meant at the time she set it all aside. Everything was out now, every preference represented on full display and she hadn’t needed to speak a word to anyone, not even the groom. _

_ Groom.  _

_ How odd to think she had a groom.  _

_ The ring on her finger had always told her that was his endgame, and her willingness--no, expectation--to join him each night he came for her, was her approval. This should not have come as a surprise. Had she not taken him seriously, each time he held her close and lead her around the floor? How about when he held her hand and gazed into her eyes? She had each morning she woke flush-faced, heart racing, and entirely alone. She took him seriously when her daydreams about him, turned to lusty fantasies.  _

_ Her dark stranger placed a gentle kiss to the back of her head before burying his nose in her hair. “ _ ** _Our _ ** _ wedding, you greedy thing,” he playfully reproached her.  _

_ What? _

_ Her stomach dropped.  _

_ Tonight was the night.  _

_ Her wedding night.  _

_ She needed to breathe--if only she could remember how to. _

_ For years now, she had visited him in this empty ballroom and never once had they shared words or pressed their lips together, yet he had decided on right now to cash in on that rock he’d placed on her finger. Of course, one could make the argument that they had been courting all this time, though it still felt rushed. Her dream man was moving fast all of a sudden and she couldn’t begin to imagine why. _

_ Had he felt threatened by the guy at the party? The astronomy major with the deadbeat father? She had, had boyfriends before, and this guy wasn’t even a date. Perhaps it was the way in which he approached her. Maybe her dream man sensed something that she had not.  _

_ Gabby slowly turned to face him, determined to figure him out. She stilled when she saw golden locks and amber eyes staring back at her, so different from his black hair and crystal eyes. She blinked a couple of times, as her eyes took in the rest of his features. They were different, and yet they did not feel foreign to her. It was still her man--she could feel him, but under the guise of another.  _

_ Sam. _

_ Sam stood in her man’s place, holding her as intimately as if it was him holding her all along. She bristled, leaving his embrace. How dare this cocky co-ed insert himself into her dreams! This place was sacred, just for her and her dream man, no one else allowed. “You,” she hissed with a mix of irritation and astonishment.  _

_ How had he done it? Was he Sam or her man? Or perhaps, more depressingly, standing before her was just a mashed up representation of a man that her brain cooked up.  _

_ Realizing that it was probably the latter, she felt her shoulders droop. His smile never faltered, however, only changed from satisfied to attempting reassurance. Clearly, he had been prepared for her response. Except that she could sense that something was eating at him. It was apparent in the way he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He never shifted, every movement he made was always so smooth and sure. His lips twitched but remained pressed together, no sound escaping. His silence had always been easy, though this time it felt forced, as if there was so much more he wanted to say, but only so much he could.  _

_ She began to ask, “Where is…?” The words fell away. She had never known his name.  _

_ Sam took her hand in his. She glanced down when she felt his thumb run back and forth over her first knuckle. It was then that she noticed the rings and the small black star tattoo. She remembered from the party that Sam wore rings on his fingers, though she hadn’t noticed whether or not he had a tattoo. She hadn’t even looked.  _

_ Suddenly, a thought crept into her brain and swirled around inside, refusing to let her dispel it. What if it had been Sam all along? What if her dream man had been preparing her to meet him in the flesh?  _

_ It was crazy.  _

_ Absolutely absurd.  _

_ This was just her brain working overtime, twisting and misinterpreting information--just like brains did. Still, the question lingered, “Sam?”  _

_ “Mate,” he growled before leaning in and lifting her hand to kiss the back of it. His lips were soft, and the warm breath he exhaled against her flesh gave her a shiver. It all felt so perfectly real that she gasped a little as her eyes met his. His crystal irises had her quivering in anticipation, and these liquid amber eyes had her melting from the inside out.  _

And then she woke up. 

Alone and confused, wrapped up in her comforter, Gabby looked around her. Gone was the wedding and the garden. Instead, the yellow halogen light that lit the parking lot outside her dorm shone through her mini blinds to reveal Blythe’s bed empty across the room. The clock read: 4:04AM. It was too early to wake up, but Gabby was too charged to go back to sleep. The next couple of hours were earmarked for staring at the ceiling and over-analyzing. Why had Mr. Perfect upped the anti tonight and given her, her dream wedding? Why had he transformed into that interesting--if not pushy--guy, Sam from the party? Where had the idea that they were one in the same come from? What was her subconscious trying to tell her? 

Her hand came down to feel her own hardened nipple and realized that Sam had been the only man she had ever met that had affected her the way her dream man did. Perhaps seeing him after fall break was not the worst idea in the world... 

_ _

  
  



	11. Convenient Lies

**Back To The Present...**

Kenny was only special to anyone because he was the first cousin, once removed, of a made man in the Persico crime family. It gave him cred when it shouldn’t have and anyone with half a brain pegged him for a fuck-up and steered clear of him. 

That was why it was so puzzling that Gabrielle would continue to carry on with such a degenerate. Lucifer watched her leave Kenny’s office, the backdoor to the strip club slamming shut behind her. Had he not just dispatched the two goons in her apartment not a week ago to keep her safe? Why was she putting herself back in the lion's den? 

Gabrielle slowed as she rounded the corner. She must have thought she was far enough away from danger. Too bad she hadn’t accounted for him. Every time he laid eyes on her, his longing only grew until he was bound to cross a line or two.

His mate was the only one who could truly understand him and would not shy away from life’s little uglies when they were presented. Sure, her formative years had been sheltered, and yes, the incident with her parents had definitely darkened her. But! There was a fire in her that made her restless and challenge authority, even before then.

That, coupled with a body perfected to tempt the devil himself--it was enough to tether him to her indefinitely. Suffering such lack of self-control and reason was made only worse by the constant craving her very presence created for him. Lucifer was no fool. He knew this soulmate business worked both ways, and though she was too stubborn to allow herself to succumb to it, she felt it too. This punishment may have been meant for him, but it was suffered by her as well. God was every bit the old testament people tried to pretend he wasn’t.

Lucifer stepped out of the shadows, appreciating the way her pupils dilated when she locked eyes with his. She was happy to see him, if only on a more primal level. 

“Oh, you,” she spat, lip curled. 

Not bothering to acknowledge her distaste for him, he judged, “Visiting that bottomfeeder was a poor choice.”

Dismissing his concern, she rolled her eyes. “Good thing I’m not looking for your approval.” 

He controlled his voice as he walked beside her. “One day, you will stop hating me.”

She shot him a glance over her shoulder as she quickened her step. “Not as long as I live.”

Lucifer slowed. The very mention of her untimely death left his heart heavy in his chest. Though she thought she was invincible, she was so very fragile. Absolutely anything could take her away from him and he was powerless to stop it. She had spent twenty three years of her life without him, and only as many as could fit on one hand, even aware of his existence at all. Lucifer had spent thousands of years harboring an emptiness for her. 

Even if she didn’t particularly like him--though he couldn’t imagine why--it would have been a kindness if she gave in for his efforts alone. And make no mistake, she did like him. Very much. In fact, if Lucifer had to venture a guess, she was even in love with him, despite her own determination not to be. 

Gabrielle must have noticed his absence beside her, because instead of charging on, as she was so quick to claim want to, she turned on her heel and smirked. He tried not to enjoy her urge to engage him too openly as he listened to her speak, “Bet you haven’t thought of that, have you?” 

What? Her death? 

On the contrary, he had. Frequently and at length. He had worried himself over her eventual death from the moment he realized just how serious his father’s punishment was--loving a mortal, a creature that crumbled under the simple weight of time. 

His pain only seemed to please her as she cocked her head and toyed with his heart. "Tell me, Lucifer. Will you still chase me like you do when I’m in my eighties and pissing my pants?” 

Probably. 

Lucifer would worship every wrinkle, all the while silently cursing his father for binding him to the point of such madness. “I anxiously await the day that you’re wheelchair-bound and can no longer run from me, mate.” 

He winked at her then, and not to suggest that he was jesting, but to confirm her suspicion that he wasn’t. A slightly horrified expression had her mouth opening and his gaze fell to her lips. Before she could utter something hateful from them, he confessed, “The taste of your lips is a most cherished memory of mine.”

Her mouth snapped shut and a slight blush crept up her neck to color her cheeks. “Luce-”

“Whatever your feelings, do your thoughts ever wander fondly to such memory?” He thought of kissing her every moment of every day, so much so that it was hard to believe the thought never crossed her mind. 

She said nothing--not to his question, or the fact that he had advanced on her. His face was mere inches from her own while he examined her for truth. Her light feminine scent had him stifling a possessive growl in the back of his throat as he breathed her in. If he thought she would allow him to nuzzle into her and rub her scent all over himself, he would. 

“No.” 

It was a whisper and a lie. 

Lucifer closed his eyes and smiled. “Not even our first kiss?”

She paused, holding her words inside. He could hear the rapid beat of her heart in her chest and knew her blood was flowing for him. She was most definitely aroused and he had hardly done more than spark a memory and invade her space. It had been quite the kiss...

“It was hardly memorable,” she bit out. 

He scoffed at that. To say what they had shared was any less than phenomenal was an obvious lie. “It was out of this world and many others,” he corrected. If she wouldn’t say it, then he would.

Gabrielle held her ground. “It was mediocre at best. And so cliche.”

“Cliche?” 

Her look was sour as she explained, “Creepy older man next door catches vulnerable underage neighbor girl and takes advantage.”

At that particular moment, Lucifer wished there were a disobedient minion nearby to take his frustrations out on. She knew best how to press his buttons. “Funny how the brain _ twists _ events, mate.” 

She said nothing, only narrowed her eyes, silently daring him to argue. This time, he would. “That was not the kiss I was referring to, and you are well aware.” 

He refused to count that as their first kiss. She knew him as Dougal then, not as himself, or even any version close to. She kissed him because she was young and vulnerable and because as his mate, she was drawn to him, even if she didn’t know why.

“Don’t,” she warned. 

“Don’t what?” Lucifer knew exactly what. It grated her whenever he referred to their time together, when he had courted her and she had welcomed it. “Don’t reminisce on what it was like when we were together?” 

“We were never together.” 

He sucked his teeth and smirked. “Keep telling yourself convenient lies; truth is in the memory.”

“Yeah,” she agreed, begrudgingly. “Who’s, though? Cause we seem to remember things differently.” 

Lucifer held his tongue, resisting the urge to snatch her up and shake her. She was infuriating and not for the first time, he cursed her willful nature--nature she had inherited in part from him. For such a loving creator, God truly knew the meaning of torture, to make Lucifer loathe himself even more for the qualities he gave the woman who shared his heart. 

The air grew thick around them and Gabrielle held herself as she retreated from him. Her eyes left his and he knew she too was lost in her own head. Probably stuck in the past. What he wouldn’t give to know which particular moment in time had taken hold. 

He hoped it was the important one--their real first kiss. 

He was Sam then, and deep down, he always had been. Though he had become Lucifer Morningstar, Samael was still a part of him. It wasn’t exactly lying if he gave her that particular name when asked. 

In those days, that was the line he walked. 

After his fall, he had veered so far from the righteous path God had set him on, that Lucifer knew revealing himself to his mate as he was would only instill fear. Though she had the shadow of his soul in her heart, she was still pure--he had seen to that. Such innocence required he proceed with caution, show her a gentle hand. 

He frequented the school library she worked in to let her see him around, which offered an explanation for why he felt so familiar to her. He felt encouraged by the obvious way in which she eyed him as she shelved a cart of books. 

He waited until the second time she noticed him before he rose from the resource table and made his way over to her. He purred over her shoulder, “Stalking me, Stardust?” 

She startled, clutching the heavy books to her chest. He reached out as if to help her catch them, using the opportunity to hold her. A breath escaped her as she glanced down, realizing that only a couple of hardcovers separated them. 

Heat rolled through him, his predatory senses keen. Though she was nervous, he could sense her excitement at his attention. Lucifer wanted to snatch the books out from between them and stake his claim to her hard against the bookshelf right there and then. Instead, he slowly--reluctantly, released her. 

Unfortunately, she regained her senses at the loss of his touch. Clearing her throat, she said, "Thank you."

He smiled, reining himself in.

"And just so you know, I'm working," she said with a sudden air of frustration. "_ Not _ stalking you on your date." 

"Date?" 

Lucifer glanced back at the table he’d been at, and noticed the annoying girl that sat beside him. She gave him a toothy grin--one that his mate didn’t seem to appreciate--and waved his way.

Was Gabrielle jealous? 

Excellent. 

"Who, her?" He asked, knowing exactly how it looked. Also knowing there was no way he could possibly explain his effect on mortals, he tried to put her mind at ease, regardless. "We're not dating. I don't even know her name." The no-name girl had been sitting at the best table to watch his mate from, and that was all. He sat himself down beside her and engaged in the necessary small talk to remain there inconspicuously without cloaking himself to the human eye. He had been making it a point to be seen, after all. 

"Likely," Gabrielle doubted. 

He took offense to that. Lucifer had given her no reason to doubt him--especially not in the guise of pure and perfect Sam. Running a hand through his blond locks, he focused his energy to make sure his true form would not shine through in the stress of his emotions. The last thing he needed was to frighten his mate away over an injured ego. Taking another tactic he said, “If I were dating Amanda--no, Ashley? No, Amber? See? I haven’t the faintest idea who she is. Other than that she is premed, something she blathered on about while I watched you sort through those books behind the counter." He did not mention that she was bent over for the majority of the time doing it, which kept his eyes on her ass and his own glued to the seat next to the wannabe Dr. Quinn Medicine Woman. “That’s irrelevant, though. Don’t you think the library is a strange place for a date?” 

Not missing a beat, Gabrielle admitted, “Or the best place.”

His brow rose in question. “Why is that?” 

She tucked her hair back behind her ear and ducked her head down. She had shared too much about herself and was regretting it. Unable to resist, Lucifer reached for her, lifting her chin so she would look at him. “Don’t be embarrassed. I want to know what you like.”

“Why?”

He stared into her eyes, wide and bewildered. It was rare that she let him--or anyone, really--look into her eyes. He knew she had learned to avert her gaze to best minimize people’s notice of the mismatch she lived with. She hadn’t worn contacts back then, and he admired her for owning her differences, even if she didn’t go out of her way to advertise them. He, on the other hand, had not had the luxury of such transparency.

“I’ve made my intentions clear, Gabrielle.” He placed her hand on his chest, as if they were about to dance. If she would not allow herself to see what was right in front of her, he would call upon her subconscious and the dreams he came to her in. 

She blew out a shaky breath and he knew she was thinking back to their private dreamland. Over the years, he had given her so many iterations of their wedding, basing them off of whatever her latest interest was. That last time, however, under the stars, was perfected and he knew it struck her on every level. 

“Now,” he said, his voice deep and commanding, grounding her with him as her head swam. “Tell me why the library is the best place for a date.”

“It’s quiet,” she whispered. Then she swallowed and blinked a couple of times before saying, “People talk too much. Sometimes it’s nice just to be with someone without all the talking.” 

When he said nothing, she continued, “And books are beautiful and unimposing.” 

“Unimposing?” 

“They hold so much information neatly within their pages. They sit and wait on a shelf for you to want them, never expecting or pressuring you to pay them any attention.” 

Lucifer smiled. “And that is why they make the best decoration for a date? They set the mood, do they?” 

“Yes,” she admitted, gently pulling her palm from his chest. “They set the pace, Sam.” 

Ah. 

Lucifer understood then. He stroked her jaw with his thumb as he assured her, “This particular dance, is one the lady leads.” 

She chuckled softly and a small curious crease formed in her brow. “What?” 

“I don’t want to push you into anything.” 

“Says the guy who keeps making his ‘intentions clear.’” She laughed again, trying to lighten the mood. 

“Perhaps I haven’t, cause you aren’t getting it,” he said, not allowing her to brush him off. “I’m into you, and my ‘intention’ is to be with you.” Letting his gaze drop down to her chest, he tried not to sound like the immortal soul he was and spoke as plainly as any college coed would, “Getting in your pants is a bonus I won’t turn down, but it’s not exactly a requirement on the first date.” 

“And what about the second?” She asked, clearly expecting his patience to run thin. 

It was his turn to chuckle now. “We haven’t even finished our first yet.” 

“Our first?”

“Yes, right here and now.”

Gabrielle smirked. “This is not a date. I’m working.” 

He carried on as if he hadn’t heard her, “You and me, enjoying each other’s company. We’re surrounded by books, so the mood and the limits are set.” He gave her a mischievous grin. “Admit it Miss Darby, we’re dating.” 

“You forgot one thing,” she said, her smile widening.

It was such a beautiful smile too. 

“What’s that?”

“You’re talking,” she pointed out, teasing. “A lot.” 

He was pleased to discover her increasing ease with him. “Come outside with me.” He hoped she would. 

“What? Why?”

“So I’ll shut up.”

“How will that help?” 

Lucifer’s lips curled into a sinful grin. “I can’t talk if you’re kissing me.”

When she said nothing, he asked, “I assume kissing isn’t off the table?”

“No,” she said, shaking her head. Then, finding courage, she smiled and conceded. “It’s a natural part of a date, after all.” 

She was finally willing to consider this not-so-chance meeting a date! His chest puffed with an emotion he had not yet felt before, much akin to pride and elation scrambled together as he admitted, “It is. I would very much like to kiss you, if you’ll allow it, and I plan to do it under the stars so that you never forget our first kiss.”

“So romantic,” she praised. “And unnecessary.” 

“Unnecessary?” He may have known the pain and steady punishment of hellfire but his mate was a spitfire--sparking and spurting unpredictably. He was fast learning that he was always a step or two behind even with all the advantages he presented over a mortal lover. 

“Yes,” she said, shrugging as if it was all so simple, and perhaps by her logic it was. “If it’s a good enough kiss, it will be memorable no matter where it takes place.”

If ever an invitation was given. Still, he felt the need for clarity. “Are you saying you want me to kiss you, right here and now? Against this bookshelf?”

“You keep talking,” she chided, wetting her lips. 

His eyes followed the tip of her tongue. “You’re right. I’m done talking,” he promised. 

Her eyes fluttered shut as she leaned in and whispered, “About time.”

“Who’s rushing who, now?” He asked, amused.

“Sam?” Her breath was hot against him as his lips hovered over hers. 

“What?” His own eyelids grew heavy. 

“Shh.” 

And then the world melted out from under them. 

His arms locked around her, pulling her against him as his mouth descended on hers in absolute supernova. This was not the tentative kiss of her sixteen year old self with her adult neighbor, but the wanting embrace of lovers finally discovered. In just a couple of years she had seasoned into a full-bodied blend of desire and anticipation. She was dipping her toes in the deep end and he had been waiting in the water for the perfect opportunity to slither up. 

He had prepared himself for the possibility that she might shy away from such intensity, and was shocked to feel her tilt her head to better accept him and slide her tongue over his. She was stealing his reason and restraint, and he was unapologetic as he stepped forward, pressing her against the bookshelf behind her. The many spines against her back, held her in place while he hailed her with his hunger, only barely remembering to allow her to breathe as he did.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. 

Not the fact that she was working, or that they were drawing attention. Neither did it matter that this was just a taste of a meal he had not yet been offered. Or that he could feel Gabriel a few aisles away, watching and disapproving like a diligent guardian angel.

“_ Sam _,” she breathed before he captured her lips again. 

And it definitely did not matter that she was giving her affection to a part of him that had died long ago. What was in a name? 

The truth would come later and he would pay for that honesty. 

Lucifer watched her walk away now, a few years older and a lot more bitter. Her steps were hurried, so determined was she to escape him. The crowded sidewalk swallowed all sight of her and he was again left without her, pining for the past. 

“Leave her,” Gabriel warned, appearing beside him.

“Sage advice,” Lucifer sniped. “Is that what you’ve been doing while she digs herself in deeper with pond scum like _ Kenny _?” 

“Humans have free will,” Gabriel reminded him. As if he could ever forget. “I am not to interfere.” 

Lucifer pursed his lips. “Yes, well. It’s good to recognize your limitations. I, on the other hand, play by my own rules.” 

Gabriel turned to face him. “Her life is not a game.”

“Neither is mine.”

“And yet you keep playing.” Gabriel narrowed his eyes.

“_ Trying _, you mean,” Lucifer corrected. He would never stop trying, and would do whatever was necessary to bring her back to what they once shared and finally claim her as his own. In the meantime, Gabriel would do well to be a good boy and follow daddy's rules to keep out of it. 


	12. Sweet Dreams

Lucifer toyed with a strand of Gabrielle’s hair as he sat alone in memory, willing her to rest. She kept odd hours on purpose, constantly changing her schedule to avoid him even in her sleep. 

He did not blame her for her caution, as he had definitely given her cause. Though, he knew that she enjoyed their time together, no matter what foul lies she spewed. How could she not? He tailored everything to her desire. It was entirely selfish on his part, as they said a happy wife made for a happy life. He was only too pleased at the prospect to be so indulgent. 

Because the rules were different in sleep, he was always able to reach her even when she wouldn’t have him. All was fair in love and soulmates.

Often enough, he found reason in so little to tear through the gossamer veil that served as a barrier between wake and dream. Though, never before his soulmate took her first breath, had he felt so severely inclined to exercise that particular ability. Altered perceptions gave way for different expectations, allowing for a freedom not otherwise awarded to those conscious.

Even before Gabby could remember, he visited her in her slumber. At first it was out of curiosity--what did babies dream of? He had never bothered to question before. One night inside her head became two, which quickly became three. Before he knew it, Lucifer was spending every night in her dreams, giving her some and bearing witness to others. 

Over the years, he sat back, lying in wait. Watching her develop, watching her grow.

And loving her for it.

Really and truly. 

He cursed himself for falling, yet again. This time his descent was not from Heaven or God’s good graces. The fall was not from anything at all, but instead, into something entirely greater--Gabrielle Darby. 

He was absolutely enamored with her and not because it was fated or expected, but because she saw life in an entirely different way than he could have ever conceived of. She was innocent and kind--which normally bored him, but being privy to her inner most thoughts, he was able to acknowledge these qualities in a positive light for the first time. Doing the right thing was not an innate inclination, but instead a constant decision on her part. 

Following this sweet--Godly path was only more and more difficult for her as the years passed. From deciding to pet the cat rather than chase it as a toddler, to giving half of her sandwich to another child at lunch in primary school, she continued to give and go without. Staying off drugs and turning her homework in--on time, no less--in high school, when so many of her friends tempted her with parties, only furthered her appeal. 

Her strength of will was beautiful.

And she was precocious, to boot.

Not with book smarts, but with common sense. Though, if she applied herself to some additional studies, he was certain she could easily expand her knowledge base. That mattered little however, in Lucifer’s opinion, as the most important form of intelligence was one’s reasoning. 

She was also quite witty--in her head. The poor girl was socially awkward and her quick wit hardly ever came out in conversation, though it was a quality of hers that he was privy to. Slipping away from Hell each night to seep into her unconscious afforded him such insider trading. 

She spurned him now, but she hadn’t then. And neither did she in dream--most of the time, anyway. You see, Lucifer had found a loophole lurking in her repose. It was there that she could accept his sweetness without spitting such bitter aftertaste. 

In the past, he walked in the shadows of her mind to learn more of the mortal he was bound to, though now he paraded out of the fringes to steal more attention from the only woman he ever deigned to love, his mate and future queen of Hell. 

Whether she could forgive him or not. 

Though, it would all be so much better if she would. 

Drawing a deep breath, Lucifer felt that familiar feeling unfurling in his chest, tingling his fingertips and toes. She was dozing, her mind opening for him. 

His eyes fluttered closed as he held his breath, letting it leave no room for anything else but the immortal life he was blessed with and the relentless want that cursed him. It was there that he could find her, deep inside that place between. 

_ The sun shown brightly against the lush green of the lawn. It was not his, he noticed, and pursed his lips in disappointment. His had been the setting for so many of her dreams before. For her to use any other garden was an insult, meant to ward him off. Which was typical. Even when she was vulnerable, she guarded herself against him. _

_ “Are you here?” She called out.  _

_ In the past, he had been fooled by her inquiry, thinking perhaps she might actually wish to see him. He learned quickly that it was not the case. _

_ “Yeah, you are.” Only when her hand smoothed over her thigh, did she look down to take notice of the garment she wore. Long sleeves and a high neckline did little to detract from the plunging back and the transparent material that covered the valley between her breasts. It was a champagne color that gave way to black lace at the bottom and dusk colored tulle that kept her skirts from hugging her legs the way the bodice had her ribs. “I know you are.” _

_ Lucifer stifled a response as he stood unmoving behind an old tree. She did this on purpose, choosing the blinding light of day for her dreams to make it harder for him to remain hidden from her. In the past, she would have welcomed the night, as with the darkness came his embrace.  _

_ “So? What will it be this time, Luce?” She plopped down in the grass, inconsiderate of whether or not her dress would stain. He wouldn’t allow such a blemish, and she took advantage of that.  _

_ “Hmm?” She goaded. Plucking at the chiffon, she scoffed. “Let me guess, dancing?”  _

_ When he said nothing, she ripped fist fulls of grass from the ground and sprinkled it across her lap. “Of course it is. You wouldn’t have put me in this get up if you weren’t trying to...to…” She trailed off, unable to say it. _

_ Romance her.  _

_ Court her. _

_ Woo her.  _

_ Was it such a terrible thing to be loved by him? He would worship her for all of eternity and give her a place by his side as his Queen of Hell. Many women fantasized about less.  _

_ “As if I can just forget what you did,” she whispered. “Who you are.” Another fistfull of grass roots and dirt rained from her tight grip, gathering in the lace trim. “As if you can trick me like you did before.” Lifting her head she scanned the perimeter. “I’m older now, not so easily fooled by your games or your pretty pictures.”  _

_ Lucifer refused to respond to such baiting. Given the circumstances, it was wise not to point out that it had only been five years since their end. Or, that he was just a passenger in this particular dream. She had picked the setting, and the gown she wore was of her own making. Her note of it could only mean that some small part of her wanted him to notice. Perhaps she missed their dances. _

_ He knew better by now than to anticipate such a possibility. She offered him such little hope.  _

_ An insurmountable length of time passed, as was the way with dreams, before Gabrielle stirred. Rising from her place on the ground, she surveyed the garden around her once more before she closed her eyes and sighed.  _

_ “If this is not your dream, then why am I here?”  _

_ Lucifer bit the reply on the tip of his tongue. He would not answer, no matter how much he longed to.  _

_ Her shoulders relaxed when she caught no sight of him, still. He liked to think that it was not so much ease that she felt, as perhaps a shred of disappointment.  _

_ The sound of birds chirping above grew louder in a strange sort of soundtrack to this moment. The sun moved in the sky, darkening the garden she leisured in, allowing him to settle more comfortably in place. Something glimmered on the ground just ahead, drawing Gabrielle’s attention. Her step quickened for it, and she looked as if she had seen a ghost as she knelt down to pluck it from the grass. _

_ Lucifer stepped closer to better see what held such power over her. The waning sun caught the gold chain that dangled from her fingers and his own heart clenched in his chest at fast recognition. This was no simple shiny trinket that she was taken with, but instead a keepsake. One he had once given to her, and she had once cherished. _

_ “There are times,” she spoke, breaking the trance he was under and giving him pause. “When I tell myself, ‘It’s just a dream. What harm could it do?’ And I consider…” _

_ Consider? _

_ Lucifer raised a brow, though held his place behind her. Each bend and curve of her silhouette, teased his memory for the many places she had formerly permitted his touch. Her long red hair flowing over her shoulders and down her back, was a silent siren call. He was a creature that spent lifetimes dealing in temptation, and yet, it was as if she had invented the concept, so expert was she in this art. She fostered such an ache in him that could only be eased by wrapping her up in his arms to feel her melt against him until they were one.  _

_ He did not realize how close he had come to making that fantasy a reality, until she spoke again and he was less than an arm’s length away. “I consider what it would be like to let you love me.” _

_ She breathed her broken confession on a whisper, ashamed at such an admission. It pained her to feel so weak to want, while at the same time his own heart lunged at the first sign of hope offered. _

_ Only love could do that to people.  _

_ It was the most powerful force ever created, and Lucifer knew that more than most. Without love--in abundance or lack--he never would have fallen from grace or risen to his current station. She was right to suffer such emotions, and from where he stood behind her, he braced her as he always had and always would.  _

_ She was not done confessing, for she quietly, desperately, added, “As Sam.”  _

_ Her words, longing for that mask, were a spike through his heart. He closed his eyes to the assault, though it did little to shield him from it. After all this time, when she seemed close to relenting, she desired him only as a facade. Sam was a part of him--who he was never allowed to be under God’s punishment.  _

_ Lucifer needed his soulmate to accept him as whole.  _

_ His hand hovered over her shoulder for a moment before he gathered her hair to push it from her neck. Though the conditional nature of her affection only served to twist the spike and ground the softest places of his heart, he was still drawn to her.  _

_ When she did not flinch or stir, he stepped closer still. There was a smile in her voice as she said, “I knew you were here with me.”  _

_ Did she know the depth of her insult? Was her pleasure at his presence or his injury? Lucifer lowered his lips to hover over her shoulder as he finally uttered, “When am I ever not?”  _

_ She did not reply, and neither did she move. If he knew his soulmate--and he did--a kiss would break the spell they were under and she would once again turn venomous toward him. So, he decided on a different course of action. Lucifer turned so that it was his cheek that threatened to press against her shoulder instead of his lips and reached for the chain in her grasp, never once allowing his fingertips to touch hers.  _

_ “I remember when I gave you this, you kept asking the occasion for such generosity, never once believing me when I told you that holding your heart was occasion enough on every day.” _

_ Gabrielle gave a soft chuckle. “Well, you didn’t say it quite like that.”  _

_ Lucifer drew a breath, basking in the easiness between them. “No, you’re correct. I believe I said something to the effect of, ‘I don’t need a reason, Stardust.’”  _

_ She gave a slight nod of her head in agreement. _

_ “Not so eloquently put,” he pointed out, highlighting an imperfection in the fantasy she clung to. “I couldn’t be when I was Sam, or I wouldn’t have blended in.” _

_ She tensed. “Or you couldn’t have fooled me, you mean?” _

_ “I took no pleasure in it.” _

_ “We’re not talking about this. Not here.”  _

_ Lucifer lifted the necklace, holding it across her throat, both to keep her in place, and in silent question. He would say no more on the subject, if that’s what it took to keep this moment together. Though she had wounded him this evening, she had also shared much more with him than she had since he revealed himself to her.  _

_ When she didn’t move away, he took it for consent and latched the chain. It was not surprising that she showed no gratitude for the small act, but her fingers brushing over it was appreciation enough. It was a light gold chain with a single star that sat just below her clavicle. Sam was a simple man who felt a small token was enough, whereas Lucifer would decorate his mate in nothing but the best. Pure gold was the compromise. _

_ He remembered the day he gave it to her like it was yesterday because for an immortal, it might as well have been. They had been lounging in the student union while everyone bustled around campus, cramming for finals--something Gabrielle had been doing the night before. He, of course, joined her under the pretense of studying as well, though it was only an excuse to be with her. He knew that soon enough the time would come when he no longer required excuses for such things, and was content to bide his time until then. The sleep deprivation had finally taken her and she dozed in his lap.  _

_ Lucifer loved this passtime of theirs the best. Her willingness to allow him to hold her freely and watch over her as she slept, showed just how comfortable she was growing with him. It warmed his heart when he peered into her dreams and saw that they were happy and carefree. She was stunning in that moment of complete and utter trust, and he couldn’t resist giving her a small gift.  _

_ His mate did not stir as he shifted her in his arms to place the chain around her neck, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead as he did. She did however, start when she realized she was wearing something she hadn’t been before. Confusion wrinkled her brow as she tried to figure out where it came from. Lucifer grinned proudly and brushed a blond lock of hair back behind his ear, flashing her Sam’s warm amber eyes as he quelled her curiosity.  _

_ The short time they spent together as Sam and Gabby, was bliss. Even her mortal shortcomings were not as bothersome as he had anticipated. He would do almost anything to suffer them now and relish her affection again. _

_ “I love you.” He purred into the back of her head, letting the words slip. He had only ever said them aloud the one time--when it was too late. It was wrong of him to say it now, when she was still so hurt, but the rules were different in dreams… _

_ “I loved Sam.” _

_ He couldn’t help but notice that her voice was somewhat less determined than it usually was regarding this subject. Thankful for the power of dreams, Lucifer rest his chin over her shoulder now, risking the contact. If she were vulnerable, he would exploit if he had to--anything to feel her again. “He was a part of me,” he explained, running his fingers down the outside of her arm in a soft tickle of a caress. “That you still mourn the loss of a mere piece of me, promises that you could one day grow to love me completely.” _

_ Lucifer lifted his head as she turned to face him, surprised by her sudden desire to face him. He stilled when she cupped his cheek and met his eyes with hers in their natural state. It had been years since she had touched him this way. How strange a thing like time was, that it could pass in a blink or drag, indiscriminately.  _

_ “I could love you.” _

_ Her words were a balm to his wounds. _

_ “But I refuse.”  _

_ And then they were salt poured generously. _

_ His stomach folded in on itself as he reached for her. She was suddenly so far away now and he knew she was waking. “Gabrielle-” _

Lucifer jolted from his chair, his heart pounding in his chest as he regained his bearings.

“Is something the matter?” 

His gaze darted to Lysistrata standing in the doorway. How long had she been there? Did she know he was chasing dreams? “Of course.” 

She remained, her eyes fixed on him. He could hear the wheels in her head turning, trying to figure him out. Good luck. He had kept this night time ritual to himself. There was no good in letting Lilith or Lysistrata become aware of his personal interests, as they would mistakenly see his investment in his soulmate as a weakness.

Not that their petty--incorrect--judgements mattered. 

What did matter, was that his mate had somehow just evicted him from her dreams. He had felt her growing stronger as time went on, sensing him sooner, turning events, forcing her own agendas at times. But, she had never done this before, never been capable.

This was too much to bear. 

Over the years, his journeys into her dreams had taken on more purpose than just initial observation and eventual appreciation. Originally, he had shown her wedding plans, and attempted to woo her with starlit dances and beautiful gardens, so he could mould a woman he might love from a child that fascinated him. Now, he showed her those things because he wanted her to have the best of everything and see what it could be like to allow herself the freedom of yielding to fate. 

To him. 

“Are you sure?” Lysistrata interrupted his brooding again. 

Rather than bother with an answer, he dismissed her with a wave of his hand. “Leave me.”

He waited until the door to his study clicked shut before he opened a window to Earth. Perhaps if he could see his mate, he might learn what to attribute her sudden strength to. Sifting through the millions of useless mortals, he zeroed in on her. 

There was no voodoo magic to be found--not that it would have worked. No chicken bones, feathers, talismans, or sigils painted in blood. Instead, she simply lay in her bed, wearing her oversized university tee, the blankets bunched around her waist. Her arm resting across her eyes, did little to hide the tears that flowed down either cheek. Either flexing such sudden strength had taken its toll, or she too felt the effects of a broken heart. 

The sicker side of him wished it was the latter, at least then their emotions would be shared. If they weren’t already. He eyed the necklace still around her neck and smiled a sad smile as he pondered how long it would take her to notice it was still there.

Their encounter had been entirely on her terms, and though it had been difficult for him to defer to her, he did so. It felt only right that he should leave her with a parting gift to remind her that he was not one to play submissive for long. 

  
  



	13. Make Believe

**Four years and eight months ago...**

Gabrielle held his hand in hers, rubbing the center of his palm as if she was shaping something from clay. “There’s just something special about using your hands to make something from nothing. You know?” She stopped when she realized what she was doing, allowing his thumb to be the anchor that she wrapped her fist around. Color filled her ivory cheeks. The vulnerability in both the blue and brown irises that separated her from the rest of the world--and connected them fundamentally--was endearing as she asked, “You think it’s stupid, don’t you?”

They had been discussing her desire to pursue art instead of nursing--the major her parents agreed to pay for. Art was more suited to her, and only a fool would have thought otherwise. She had always seen things others had not, viewing the world with a keen eye. Nursing was a respectable enough profession, but her talents were completely wasted on it. 

It was encouraging that she would share this confidence with him, though also disappointing that she would feel so insecure about it. Selfishly deciding that only physical touch could remedy this situation, Lucifer pulled her closer and shook his head. “No.” 

Gabrielle made a small show of protest, her hands weakly pressing against his chest. “You’re just saying that to get in my pants,” she teased. If he believed that she was really under the misapprehension that he was only after her sex, he would have been offended. Surely, the months that had passed, wherein he was a painfully good boy, had proven otherwise. She was, however, fishing--something she had been doing a lot more of lately. 

As their relationship progressed, she was feeling societal pressure to put out. Simply put, there was being a ‘good girl’ and being a nun. Although, Lucifer had always found nuns the worst culprits when it came to loose morals. They preferred to spend their time in just two positions: on their knees or on their backs. 

“I don’t need to lie to get in your pants, Stardust.” 

“Oh?” She eyed him skeptically, a mischievous grin spreading across her lips. “Confident you’ll be a frequent flyer?” 

He definitely did not appreciate that insinuation. His hands lowered to her hips, gripping them possessively as he growled, “The _ only _flyer.” It might have been a bit firm for how slowly she was taking things, so as soon as he had shown her some of his beast, he showered her with a little beauty to make up for it. Pressing a chaste kiss to her ear, he hoped her wishes were aligned with his. “For ever and ever.”

Her lips pursed as she lamented, “I never should have told you.” 

She was referring to the subject of her virginity, of course. It was an embarrassing topic for any college co-ed still holding onto that particular status. Little did she know that it was something he was already well aware of, and had been ensuring over the years. 

Needing to take away her sense of regret, he explained, “I wasn’t talking about that. Although,” he paused and dropped his forehead to hers. “I would be lying if I said it didn’t make me happy that I’m the only man set to explore that particular depth.”

“Sam!” She squawked. 

He made a show of wincing at the octave her voice hit, to better cover up the discomfort he had been suffering more and more lately with her use of the name. He had given her the pseudonym originally because he needed to twist the truth and felt it was the closest thing to any sort of honesty he could offer, as he was Samael at one time. It was only now they had grown so close that it had begun to feel so dishonest. Quickly masking his knee-jerk reaction with a smile, he shrugged playfully. 

“You’re horrible.”

“Horribly yours.” 

Dimples flared in her cheeks as Gabrielle stood on tiptoe to rub her nose against his. “And don’t you forget it.” 

That she would lay any sort of claim had his heart beating fiercely in his chest. They were absolutely obnoxious together and he would not have it any other way. Her warmth toward him was far more rewarding than that of his former days in Heaven. Had God anticipated that? Doubtful that it was part of his plan for the punishment he dolled to offer more satisfaction than the love he promised.

Refusing to give his father another moment of consideration, Lucifer hummed his happiness and insisted, “Life is too short not to pursue your passion.”

Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “Tell my parents that.” 

“I would, if-” 

“Don’t.” She cut him off with her hands up.

“_ If _,” he continued, undeterred. “You would only introduce us.” 

“Not this again.”

“Yes, this again,” he pressed, because he was serious. It wasn’t as if he didn’t already know the Darbys. He had spied them through his windows from Hell often enough to know that every Tuesday Bill ‘forgot’ to pick up bread or milk on his way home so that he could run back out and slip some cash to the nineteen year old convenience store clerk who sold him pot. Or, that Helen secretly prayed her friend Rachel’s useless husband would finally catch the clap for screwing around on her, and silently begged forgiveness for such vengeful thoughts. 

His mate’s hesitation to introduce him to her parents was maddening. They weren’t much different from any other mortal, so her embarrassment was unwarranted. Pulling from her, he worked to keep the disappointment from his voice as he said, “You know what? It’s fine.” 

Even though it most certainly was not. 

He turned to leave, only to feel a tug on his arm. It pleased him that she cared enough to keep him in place and he had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling as she said, “Now, see, you say that. But, I have a hard time believing it.” 

“When have I ever lied to you?” He asked, fixing his eyes forward, because for quite possibly the first time, he was discovering what guilt felt like. He lied to her every day that he told her he was anyone other than who he truly was. Rather than have her question herself, he turned and sighed. “Look, I don’t want to do the whole ‘meet the parents’ thing if you aren’t ready to.” 

And he didn’t. Because, he shuddered to think what would happen when the day came that she might want to meet his father. It was doubtful that his ruse would be up. He could always have a minion play the role for him, in order to avoid that terrible interaction all together. That would only create another lie to stack on top of the first. 

It was not as if he could introduce her to God. Although, he was sure that his father would get a kick out of making an appearance just to fuck with everything. “I know it’s an important step. One I’m ready for. But it’s alright if you aren’t.” 

Her eyes widened. “Sam, I--it’s just that… Look, my parents are so...” She trailed off, not sure what to say. How many guys actually wanted to meet the parents? It made sense that she wasn’t prepared for what he was asking, regardless of the fact that he kept revisiting the subject. 

“You’re not embarrassed by me, are you, Stardust?”

She laughed and took a step forward to bury her face in his chest, her voice vibrating into him as she exclaimed, “No!” 

Reaching for her hair, he gently pulled her head back so that he might look into her eyes. They were striking in their mismatch. “It’s getting late.”

“Mm,” she agreed. 

“I should go.” Not that he wanted to. But he would--for her, because, nothing good ever happened after midnight. Nothing virtuous, anyway.

Her hand squeezed his, stopping him.

“Or,” she paused to swallow. The breath she held had her heart taking off in a gallop. Her hand turned hot in his, and she looked down as she offered, “You could stay.” 

She was risking more than just getting caught by the crotchety resident advisor down the hall, and he had to know if she was serious. “That right, Stardust?” 

“Mmhmm.”

“And what about your roommate?”

Her cheeks pulled up into a grin, a low chuckle tumbling out. “Blythe told me she was in the mood for greek tonight, which means she’s crashing at Theta Chi. So, it’s not like there will be any awkward morning run-ins.”

“Oh.” His voice softened at her blatant invitation. Tilting her chin up with his fingers, he inspected her closer. When his eyes caught hers, he saw fear mixed with lust sparkling back at him--fear of rejection, of the unknown. 

As much as he wanted to sate his mate’s sudden desire, she was still so timid when it came to her feelings about him. He had been courting her as Sam for months and though she seemed to have grown more comfortable with him on the whole, she did not love him--he did not believe. At least, she had yet to say as much. Which, for someone who had never suffered a broken heart, his mate was certainly reluctant to share it.

Was her sudden sexual interest due to a sense of obligation because of the time invested? He was not that dumb-fuck jock Todd from a couple of years prior, and she needed to know that. No, on the contrary, he was far from. Todd was good for a couple of pumps, whereas Lucifer would cherish her until time found it’s limit. She need not feel any responsibility when it came to their intimacy. In fact, _ responsibility _was the last thing he wanted her to feel in regards to what they shared. Giving her a pass, he answered, “Sorry, I didn’t bring my PJs.”

She stepped closer, placing her free hand on his chest. Her eyelashes fluttered as she gathered courage. “Good thing they aren’t required.”

Lucifer bit the inside of his cheek--her words kickstarting his cock. Perhaps it wasn't an obligation that she felt, so much as a natural urge that was so much simpler to let oneself feel than love. 

If his mate was horny, he would not fault her. Perhaps she would not fault him for giving in--it was hard to be good when she was looking to dip her toes in the bad. 

He was considering his next response when her hands slid up under his shirt, taking their time caressing each hidden bump and ridge. He flexed, readily responding to her touch.

“You can take this off,” she said, a husk to her voice that hadn’t been there before. Suddenly insecure with how easily one could hear the need in her voice, she added with a note of uncertainty, “If you want to.”

Oh, he wanted to.

And it appeared as though she wanted him to, too.

His mate would want for nothing, so he pulled the knit shirt over his head and waited for her next move. It was slow to come, as her eyes traveled over his chest. She had yet to see him this way, other than in the quad playing frisbee with friends he fabricated in order to get her attention. Never up close, and never for her exclusive viewing pleasure. Though he possessed the ability to shift into any form that appealed the most, he came to her as himself--mostly. Sam was of his likeness in all things but coloring, a lustrous version of his darker self. 

Her gaze stayed fixed on his abs as she reached inside her own shirt and started unhooking her bra. It was a maneuver he had seen women do before, so he was not surprised when the pale lilac colored garment materialized from the sleeve of her t-shirt, only to be tossed aside. 

Her nipples stood out against the fabric of her shirt, promising that her body was ready to take him, even if her head and her heart weren’t. He let his gaze drift down, wanting her to see the desire building in his eyes as much as he had in hers. Her touch--however innocent--was bliss. It was why he was always reaching for her, pulling her into his lap, purring at the way she traced the features of his face or fussed with his hair. Why he didn’t pressure her to consummate anything--her kiss alone had been enough to send him reeling. 

Gabrielle surprised him by pushing her pants down without preamble. His blood heated when his eyes fell to her creamy thighs. She stood there, squirming for a moment before she reached for his waistband. Lucifer had to snap himself out of the trance she had him in to drop his hands to hers. He loathed to stop her, but he would. For her, he would.

He had fallen in love with her the moment their eyes met, his affection taking a much less chaste turn at the first sign of puberty. Waiting had been difficult, but he continued to tell himself that it was worth it because when he took her, she would be ready. 

“Don’t.”

“What?” Her eyes widened in surprise. Rejection flashed across her face and Lucifer reached for her, trying to soothe the pain. 

He cupped her cheek as he explained, “I’m not wearing boxers.”

Relief washed over her as she huffed a laugh. “Promise I won’t judge your tighty whities.”

He brushed his thumb over her cheek as he again explained, “I’m not wearing briefs.”

“Oh.”

Yeah. _ Oh _. 

Silence passed between them for the span of a whole heartbeat before she rallied herself and carried on as if unfazed. “So what?”

He raised a brow at her in silent challenge. 

Gabrielle only dug her heels in and stood her ground. “You can’t be comfortable in those.” She pointed to his pants. “Jeans are impossible to sleep in.” 

Laying beside her guaranteed sleep an impossibility anyway, but he was far from saying so. When his hands didn’t move from hers, she stood on tiptoe and pecked his lips. “It’s okay.”

He wasn’t sure who she was trying to assure more--him or her, but the moment her fingers popped the button on his fly, he lost reason. His grip loosened and before he knew it, the cool air that surrounded them hit his pelvis. Only his mate could render him so vulnerable. He hadn’t felt his pants drop down his legs until they were in a pool around his ankles. 

Her focus zeroed in on his cock standing at full attention, trying its hardest to close the distance between them. If she looked shocked before, this was a whole new level.

“Stardust?”

He knew she had seen a penis before, so it shouldn’t be so startling. He had placed himself in her line of sight under the guise of Dougal, to ensure that she would be prepared when the time came. He would have all her firsts, even if he had to shift into many men to do it. But this was different. He could be himself this time--mostly.

When she didn’t answer, he wrapped his arms around her, and drew her close. Burying his nose in her hair, he inhaled her scent. It had changed over the years, but still held the same notes--the sweet pucker of a fresh strawberry growing in the wild. It was with fruit that he tempted Eve, so it was only right that his mate would carry the scent of sin. 

Another one of God’s jokes.

The big man could laugh. The joke was on him, however. Gabrielle’s scent was so pure--like her, that Lucifer wanted nothing more than to devour her whole and roll around in whatever remained. What had begun as an embrace transformed into something more as he nuzzled into her neck, drawing deep breaths to clear his nose of anything else. 

She gasped at the tickle of his lips and let loose a low moan when he caught her skin between his teeth. He did not think she had been anticipating that--well, neither had he anticipated how delicious she would be. Gabrielle followed his lead, and turned her head to reciprocate when he palmed her supple ass through her sensible cotton panties. 

Perhaps it was too much at once; Lucifer wasn’t certain--or asking. Not when he realized that it was she that pulled him back onto the bed, just as much as he pushed her into it. He told himself to slow down, savor her. 

He was large and imposing on the small twin size bed, her eyes wide drinking every inch of him in. It delighted him to see her take pleasure in his form--and not because she was mortal and therefore prone to. But, because she genuinely did. Careful not to crush her, he cupped and massaged her breasts over her shirt before lifting the hem.

She nodded when he glanced at her for permission and a tremor of nervousness ran through her as the material rose over the soft round of her breast and teased over her sensitive nipple. Trapped between them, his cock was left tortured by every which way she squirmed. 

When his lips wrapped around her, sucking gently, she moaned his name. “_ Sam _.”

Her use of his assumed name was surprisingly disconcerting. It wasn’t her fault, of course, but reason did not factor into this equation. He had given her the name under false pretense and she used it now, of all times, when he was being as honest with her body as he ever could. This moment was pure--the claiming of his mate--and she was oblivious to his real identity. 

Lucifer did not particularly appreciate such a crisis of conscience, right now, while he finally had her pinned beneath him writhing in the pleasure he gave her. Determined to stay the course, Lucifer moved to her other breast. 

Again, she panted that name. 

He kissed her to silence her.

He was already venturing further down after stealing the name off her lips, when he noticed her hip peeking out from under the high cut bikini. It was more temptation than he could have ever offered in trade to a sinner looking to free himself of a pesky soul. So long had he remained on the sidelines of his mate’s life. Now that he had her full attention, he wanted to let her see how good it could be with him.

His mouth hovered over her belly button, breathing warm air over her as her hands moved to his head, threading in his hair. Again, she arched forward into him and breathed, “_ Sam _.” 

It was another whip-crack against him, jolting him out of their shared pleasure. His head snapped up, ceasing his movements with her, every muscle tensed in irritation. 

“What?” Gabrielle leaned up on her elbows. “What’s wrong, Sam?” 

There it was again. She may have said it in question now, but she had called it out in passion three times. Three miserable times, she called out a persona instead of him.

“Nothing.” He forced a smile. 

She was far too intuitive to believe that to be true. “Sam?”

His jaw ticked. “Perhaps we should slow things down.”

She glanced down between them, no doubt noticing that his cock was, in fact, no longer so proud. Her lips parted to say something and he cut her off. “We can take our time. I’m not going anywhere.” 

“You say that.” 

“And mean it.”

Gabrielle pulled her shirt down. He hated that she was self conscious now. She tucked a lock of her hair behind her ear, determined to stay the course, “Yeah, right. We’ve been seeing each other for a bit. You must be getting frustrated.” She scanned his face. “Especially since you’re more experienced…”

Lilith--along with any of the other countless mortals who spread their legs for him--had no place here, and he certainly wouldn’t allow the various ways in which he used to pass the time, to come between them. Knowing that she was interpreting his silence, he snuggled her close to him. He tucked her head under his chin as he soothed, “That doesn’t matter. All that matters is you--us. And when we take that step, I want you one hundred percent ready.”

She kissed his chin. “I am.”

And he believed that she was. 

For Sam.

She was not ready for him. How could she be? Speaking more truth than he cared to admit, Lucifer gave her a sad smile. “I just want to be certain of our feelings for each other first.”

He had meant that particular truth for her, however, that he would even insist such a thing, implied that it was he who was uncertain of his feelings for her. She quieted at that and curled more tightly into herself, and though she remained in his arms, he knew she was hurt.

He was an asshole for wounding her like that. She deserved so much better. It had been the only way he could think to cool things down, but that didn’t make it right. He suspected that there wasn’t much he could offer her that was right. 

Endless orgasms? A place by his side in the pits of Hell? Command over his armies of the damned? Everything he had worked hard to achieve would only taint her beautiful soul. It was one thing if she wished it, if she decided that the benefits far outweighed the costs. Though, why would she? 

He had done everything he could to make his lot in existence much more tolerable than his father would have allowed. Along with all the fallen angels and the world’s worst sinners, Hell housed all the creature comforts of a more blessed life. Though, it was still devoid of God’s light.

Each time she uttered the name ‘Sam,’ was a testament to just how far away from accepting him as her mate, she was. It was out of genuine fear that he held her so close. Lucifer had already lost so much--abandoned by his father and his brothers. It would be a true cruelty of his maker to give him a mate only meant to abandon him as well. 

It was why he invaded her dreams, needing to surround her with himself until she struggled to function without his presence. Was it cheating? Hardly. He competed with no one else for her attention. Was it playing dirty? Probably, but Lucifer lacked the need for cleanliness, and she was worth it. 

Rather than visiting her as the dark stranger who danced with her in his ballroom, Lucifer gave her an older vision that night. It was meant to comfort and assure her, show her that though he declined her advances, she was still his to adore. 

Her eyelids were heavy as she settled into his arms, and she sighed into his chest as he brought the blankets up over their shoulders. He knew she liked them tucked under her chin, but their positioning on that small bed would not allow it. Her hot breath on his chest as she fell asleep, was nothing short of euphoria. It took real work and determination to offer her nothing but chaste visions as he stroked her long sun kissed locks. 

She was much younger in this particular dream, playing with her dollies in the backyard. Turning up the sunshine, he smiled at the glow that surrounded her as she walked her Ken and Barbie doll down the aisle she made of dandelions and had them say, “I do,” under the pseudonyms, Gabby and Luce. 

How confusing it must have been for her to date Sam, play dollies with Lucifer, and dance with a dark stranger who was someone in between. In her sleep, she drove her forehead into his chest and let out a soft moan when he pressed a kiss into her hair. 

“I am here, my love. Always.” To her, he was nothing more than a college interest, whereas she was everything to him. It was silly to speak to her so, but it felt right regardless. And Lucifer always did what felt right. It was what cast him out to Hell in the first place.

The next morning, he tried not to let her surprise at his presence injure his ego. “What’s going on in that head of yours, Stardust?”

“You stayed.”

“Of course.” Reluctantly, he released her when she sat up. “Why wouldn’t I?” 

“I just thought because we didn’t…” 

“Stop,” he scolded before kissing her. “I told you I wasn’t going anywhere.” 

Her eyes fluttered open and a smile spread across her lips. “So you did.” 

Gabrielle stroked a hand over his bare chest and he could see quite clearly that she would reward his loyalty with her body if given the opportunity. What he wouldn’t give to accept such a gift--if only it had not been tainted by her tendency to call out for someone he stopped being long ago. 

Needing her to stop, he caught her hand and kissed the back of it. “Come. Let me walk you to class.” 

He was so pleased that she would allow him after the night’s frustrations, that he barely let her out of his grasp because of it. Placing a possessive hand in the back pocket of her jeans as they crossed the quad, Lucifer told himself that when he revealed himself to her, she would remember how good it felt to be in his arms and not give a single lick that he had seen fit to wear a guise to win her affections. 

“See you after?” 

“Yes,” he replied, pulling her in for another kiss. 

“Good.” She squeezed his hand goodbye and turned toward the double metal doors of her class, only looking over her shoulder once. 

“I am proud of you, brother. You made the right choice.”

Lucifer stiffened, knowing that voice. 

“I know you weren’t watching us, Gabriel.” Forcing amusement he didn’t feel, Lucifer smirked. “That would have been awfully pervy of you, if you had…”

Gabriel raised a skeptical brow before snapping his fingers. 

Gone was the sunny college campus that had surrounded them, replaced now with dated diner decor in the form of avocado greens, mustard yellows, and nut browns._ ‘Donna’s Delicious Dishes,’ _ flashed on the neon sign outside. The pungent aroma of fried food assaulted Lucifer’s nostrils, stealing away what remained of his mate’s scent. 

“Is there a reason why you brought us here?” 

“I was in the mood for fries,” Gabriel explained as he lifted a bottle of ketchup from the carousel beside them and squirted it criss-cross over a plate of crinkle cut fries, effectively drowning them. 

Lucifer rolled his eyes. “Sweet potato fries are better.”

“In your opinion.” 

“You’ve got five minutes to explain your nosing around,” Lucifer warned, ignoring the plate of sweet potato fries that appeared before him. He definitely would not thank him. 

Gabriel flipped his hair over his shoulder and lifted a fry to his lips. “You know it’s my job to observe. And I just wanted you to know that after last night, I am proud of you.” 

“I’ve never taken kindly to condescension,” Lucifer said, uninterested in his brother’s superficial praise. 

Gabriel talked around a mouthful of fries. “You stopped yourself because you knew it wasn’t real.” 

Lucifer scoffed. He had felt every bit of the mate part of a soulmate. “Tell that to my cock.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you always get crass when you’re uncomfortable?”

“Your obsession with me is flattering.” 

Gabriel rubbed his greasy fingers into a napkin and swallowed. “She doesn’t love you yet. The love you feel is for _ Sam _. And that hasn’t been you in a very long time.”

“I can be him again,” Lucifer argued. _ Mostly. _

Gabriel’s brows raised in disbelief as he thought, _And_ _run Hell? _“Doubtful.” _You can’t trick her into damnation. She has to choose such a fate willingly. _

“Care to bet?” 

“Gabby is my charge-”

“Gabrielle,” Lucifer corrected, not appreciating his brother using such familiarity with his mate to instill doubt. Gabriel was one of his more tolerable siblings, though, Lucifer would still have severed the connection between them completely if it was possible. 

Gabriel pushed his half eaten plate aside and waved for the waitress. “As I was saying, she is my charge. I know her--how she thinks. And I know that if she finds out who you are, after she’s committed herself to you, she will rebel. Against you.”

“Oh no!” Lucifer clutched a hand to his chest, melodramatically. “The wrath of a lowly mortal is downright terrifying.”

_ You weren’t calling her a ‘lowly mortal’ last night _, Gabriel mentally chided. 

No. He definitely wasn’t. In their intimate moments, Gabrielle felt so much greater than her mortal casing. Lucifer was not so scared of her might, as he was her will. He did not see his mate lifting a sword and raising a rebellion in Hell, so much as he could imagine her withdrawing her heart as soon as she shared it. He knew that her distance and the absence of her warmth would wound him much worse than any fight she would give him--God had taught him that lesson already. 

Sobering a bit, Lucifer admitted the truth, “My mate is exquisite--mortal or not.” 

“Then you must come clean.” Gabriel set his elbows on the table and leaned in, his eyes sincere as he thought, _ Give her the chance to accept your ugly or this is all just make believe. _

Lucifer plucked a stray strand of blond hair from his sleeve. His lips pursed at the reminder of his disguise and with an annoyed blink, his hair returned to its natural state--inky black, devoid of color and light. One of his amber eyes darkened to a thick clover honey brown, while the other lightened until the cold turned it to ice. 

“It’s good to see you without the lie.” 

Lucifer’s gaze darted to his brother and to spite him, he forced the warmth he carried in one eye to recede until it was cloaked in matching frost. It was his mortal costume, unlike the one he wore as Sam, but still not the reality he was cursed with. 

The resulting snort from across the table offered little satisfaction. 

An onslaught of sweet and savory hit Lucifer’s taste buds before he realized that he had bitten into one of the fries on the plate before him. 

His time with Gabrielle had been real, regardless of whatever pretense it was under. His name and appearance might have been different, but the way in which he embraced her was authentic. The confidences she shared with him were genuine.

This was not a child’s game. This was not _ Make Believe _. 

“They are better with ketchup.” 

“Shut up.” 


	14. Not Supermodel Material

**Two weeks later, and exactly four years, seven months and thirteen days ago**

Gabriel’s magnificent wings sheltered her from the elements as they sat in the middle of old man McLellan’s back field. Thunder and lightning crackled through the sky and despite his urging, Gabby had no intention of returning home. There was nothing left for her there. 

Sam had seen to that.

Sam--Satan, whoever he was.

Hot tears streamed down her cheeks--a bittersweet contrast to the frigid raindrops that chilled her bones. Her fingertips had gone numb as she traced the trail of a droplet that had fallen on her thigh, and she wondered what else would lose feeling.

Life had never before been more painfully simple. Everyone Gabby knew and loved were all just molecules running into each other, smearing smaller droplets into larger ones. Brought together or torn apart by the bonds that changed them, they transformed into new elements. Gabby felt herself turning from the doe-eyed daughter in a nuclear family to the girl who had fallen for the wrong man. 

To an orphan, now. 

Someone had stolen the pen and rewrote the narrative on her life. They ripped her out of the romance section that her pretty paperback life existed in and jammed her upside down in the horror section. Her dog-eared pages bent and frayed and slowly tore from her spine as she lay suspended between two immovable hard covers--Heaven and Hell. 

Rock, meet Hard Place. 

In a world where it was the valiant prince who murdered her parents rather than an evil villain set upon revenge, she had no hope for a happily ever after. 

Seemingly endless silence passed between Gabby and Gabriel and her joints began to ache from such prolonged stillness. She lacked the will to move them, and ignoring her discomfort only made the base of her skull throb. Knowing her needs without her having to voice them, Gabriel’s patient fingers dug into her scalp. She whimpered weak resentment as he relieved the pain with a healing touch. Now, even her ability to feel pain was being taken away from her. What would be taken away next?

“Don’t,” she protested, quietly. 

“Shh,” he cooed. “It’s alright. Allow this small comfort.”

Comfort?

Gabby lifted her head. A sick laugh burbled up her throat as she met her friend’s eyes. “Everyone I love is dead. There is no comfort.”

“Oh, Gabby.” His own voice broke as he slung his arm around her and crushed her to his chest. Until then, had been obvious that he was careful not to touch her more than he had to, respecting her state of shock. To say that he was protective of her was an understatement. Then again, she would be worried if he was not. It was, after all, his job. Gabriel was her guardian angel, plucked straight from Heaven and assigned to her by the big guy himself. 

She knew from stories that guardian angels never revealed themselves to their charges. They always stayed off the radar, pulling strings and protecting from afar. For whatever reason, that just wasn’t Gabriel’s style. As long as Gabby could remember, she knew him and who he was to her. She even had some blurry, early memories of his messy hair and soft cobalt eyes hovering over her crib.

At first, she was the only one who could see him, her parents thinking he was an imaginary friend that she had created after hearing too many stories about the archangel Gabriel in Sunday School. Later, when she was too old for imaginary friends, he revealed himself to everyone as her best friend from school. Clueless, her mother and father thought it a funny coincidence that she befriended a boy with the same name as her old imaginary friend.

Because he had always been there, Gabby never found it strange that she was the only person she knew with a guardian angel hanging around. He was her best friend--her confidant, and when she was up to trouble, he was her accomplice. Even though she knew he tagged along, only to watch over her and act as her Jiminy Cricket, she liked to pretend it was because they were partners in crime. 

It had always been more fun thinking she might be just as susceptible to real trouble as the rest of the population. 

When she was little, Gabriel helped her make the best sandcastles, and when she got older, he flipped through Teen magazine and gasped at the ‘Mortifying Moments’ section right along with her. He once wore a pink tutu for a week when she was six because she dared him to, and then again at her request when they were fifteen during Pride Week as a misguided show of support for an in-the-closet lesbian she tried to befriend.

That had gone poorly, as most of her attempts to form relationships tended to. That was until she met Sam. Before him, Gabriel was the only person in her life (aside from her parents) who she felt was truly invested in her. Someone who saw her--who bothered to look in the first place. 

The tear in her heart grew, killing her just a little more with each painful rip. 

“Why would God do this to me?” Though it was her own voice that asked the question, she felt oddly separate from it. Survivors detached from the truly awful so they could keep on living. It seemed like Gabby was going to survive this whether she wanted to or not.

“He didn’t.” Gabriel’s voice, too, sounded strange. Disconnected from his warm body, it was deeper and older. As an angel, Gabby reasoned that Gabriel was many millenia-years older than he looked, but he had never acted so before. “God did not kill your parents. _ Lucifer _did.” 

She shuddered at the name said aloud.

It struck her on a primal level, one beyond comprehension. Since her baptism, she had been taught to fear the devil--to know him as the most evil creature in all of existence. He toyed with man to spite God, using temptation and lies to ruin. He was a great cloven hoofed beast with horns and fangs that delighted in torturing little boys and girls who broke God’s commandments. He shapeshifted into various forms to better suit his work of corrupting man. The fallen angel Lucifer was a snake in the garden of Eden, a succubus set on seducing, the small voice in every human being’s head that gives permission to do all the awful things we know as wrong. 

Gabby closed her eyes and saw Sam’s face smiling back at her. He was warm when he put his arms around her, always so very warm. Was that because when he wasn’t wooing her, he resided in the fiery pits of Hell? 

He always knew just what to say, too--just how to read her perfectly. It was as if they had been together for years, instead of mere months. Did the Devil’s talents go beyond shapeshifting? Could he read her mind? 

The contented smile he gave as she sat in his lap, on any of the numerous times she fed him bites of her lunch in the cafeteria, had her stomach churning.

Sam had been the perfect boyfriend--_the_ _one_.

Until that night. 

Until she saw first hand, the death that surrounded him and had cause to learn his true name.

For the first time since ever being issued a guardian angel, Gabby wondered whether or not God had given her Gabriel to protect her from Sam. God was supposed to be all-knowing. He had to have seen this coming. If that was the case, then why had he not protected her parents? They were innocent. They went to church, honored their vows, recycled all their number two plastics, and paid their taxes on time. What they did not do, was welcome a wolf in sheep’s clothing into their home. They had not fallen for his charms, opened their hearts to him, or allowed him to touch them so intimately. They committed none of her crimes, yet they were the ones to pay for them.

The sick feeling in her stomach traveled up her chest and gripped her heart. “I hate myself,” she whispered, because saying it aloud was some sort of atonement. 

“You shouldn’t. You’re pretty amazing,” Gabriel said, sounding a little more like his usual self, though still quite far from. 

Now was not the time for pep talks. 

Bile ran up the back of her throat when she thought of Sam’s fingers intertwined with hers as he walked her to class each day. How easily he strolled in the sunlight as if he too was one of God’s children. She touched her forehead where he would always place a chaste kiss and promise to be waiting for her once she got out. If only she could carve that piece of flesh off entirely, and rid herself of the places he explored. 

Like the naive eighteen year old child that she was, she never questioned, or doubted his intentions. She closed her eyes and let herself fall back into his arms, and he was only too happy to scoop her up and take advantage. Her teeth clenched thinking of it, catching the inside of her cheek and biting down until she drew blood. The copper taste was a small consolation. How stupid she was to cherish such an embrace. How needy of her to enjoy it--being someone’s whole world.

The man she trusted with her life, took her parents’. At best, Sam was a sadistic psychopathic stalker who needed serious help in an extremely locked facility. At worst, he truly was Satan--the Prince of Darkness himself. It was crazy, but she had seen with her own two eyes, the things he did--in 20/20 clarity. 

Things that she could not explain. Inhuman things.

Would it have been any easier if his abilities were due to falling in a vat of toxic sludge when he was young? Probably not. But Gabby was damn-sure that it would not have been as hard as being told that he was the King of Hell. What was she even supposed to do with that? How could she possibly overcome the Devil himself? 

It was game, set, match.

Completely numb, she turned to leave the carnage, taking slow careful steps on wobbly legs. 

Refusing to let her leave, he screamed her name. Still covered in her parent’s blood, he dared to scream her name. To show _ her _fury, as if she were the one committing the crime. 

If she could, she would cut out his tongue.

When she did not turn back around, he uttered a growl so deep that the Earth quaked beneath her feet. Another demonstration of his power. Slowly, still shivering in shock, her eyes met his. Gone was the soft amber she had gazed into nightly, and let lull her into love. In its place was the reflection of her own.

Of course. 

The devil was a shapeshifter.

She might not have been able to see the truth yet, but she could now see the lie. 

Jet black ate all the color from his hair, and there was a hardness in his expression that she did not recognize. With her parents lifeless at his feet, she did not think to wonder what his true form was. Was this even it? Her brain was already too confused, trying to digest everything that had happened in the course of one horrible night. 

He took a step forward and she took one back, into Gabriel’s chest. His hands rose to clutch her arms, supporting her. He said nothing, only held her upright. 

Reaching one tentative hand out in appeal, the creature who still shared some similarities to Sam softened. It’s voice was a pleading whisper, “_ Stardust? _”

For the first time since he gave her the pet name, Gabby cringed when she heard him say it. ‘Stardust’ was what Sam called her, not this dark damnation. She wanted no such endearments from the man--_ creature _, that left the ashy taste of death in her mouth. 

She should have hated Sam for harboring such evil beneath his flesh. For tricking her. For turning into a monster. Instead, the part of her heart that had not yet quite caught up with the reality of the situation and hardened against him, missed that memo. 

It was Sam who held her close and tucked the hair behind her ear as he called her that. Sam, the man who sat through a Desperate Housewives marathon when she was sick, who left pot brownies in her bag for her to find when it was her time of the month, and who had been sneaking into her dorm room every night to snuggle her to sleep.

This man was gone, and later, when she was done grieving for her parents, she would grieve for the false romance that too, was lost to her. 

This imposter’s eyes shifted further still as they looked past her, to Gabriel. Black glittered in the night’s sky, and any gentleness or kindness seeped from them as he realized her revulsion. Narrowing them, they sharpened a point, as deadly as a knife. She had never felt intimidated by eyes before, and yet there she was, sinking further back into Gabriel’s protection. 

“Get me out of here.” 

Gabriel had not hesitated. He wrapped his arms around her and took flight, leaving the devil who devoured her lover and her family behind. 

That was how they had gotten to McLellan’s farm, sitting in a downpour. When she was a child, her parents used to say that rain was God’s tears, and while she wasn’t sure whether or not that was true, the rain felt somehow connected to her loss. 

Remembering Sam’s words to her back in the diner--when the shit had only just begun to hit the fan, she stammered, “He said...he said that, um…” She swallowed, trying to make herself repeat it. A thousand shards of invisible glass scratched and scored her throat. Taking a deep breath, she finally got it out. “That I’m his soulmate.”

A rogue raindrop smacked her right in the center of her forehead and Gabriel shifted his wing higher to offer better coverage. The bible had told her that the great angel Gabriel was an archangel--which essentially meant that he was like a lieutenant in God’s army. While he might not have been as legendary for his skills in the battlefields of Heaven as some of his fellow angels like Michael, Gabby knew he could level a city if provoked. 

It was easy to forget how powerful Gabriel was with the way he slouched and hid himself behind baggy concert t-shirts and his dedication to an easy-going class clown act. Though slumped against him now, Gabby could feel the strength in his muscles and the energy that radiated off of him. In the face of the devil, he stood behind her, not backing down, leaving only when she begged him to take her away. If anyone could help her, it was Gabriel. 

When he did not respond, his silence screamed in her ears, and she pushed him further. “Well?” She wished he would tell her it was a lie. “Am I? His soulmate?” 

“You are.” 

That two-word confirmation was a double-barrel shotgun fired straight into her chest. The air escaped her lungs as she curled into herself, bringing her forehead to her knees. “No,” she groaned, denying it. “No, I’m not. I can’t be.” Not to him. Never to him. 

Not everyone believed in soulmates, Gabby knew, but she always had. Ever since she was a small girl, she accepted it as a simple fact of life. As she grew older and found herself physically attracted to others, she figured that it was possible to hold love in one’s heart that was not the same--not as deep as what one would feel for their soulmate. Men would come in and out of her life as she searched for her one true love, and though she was not anticipating that her love life would become a revolving door, she had expected that she might have a few serious monogamous relationships before she found the one. Aside from high school boyfriends she managed to keep from handing her virginity over to, Sam had been her only serious relationship. 

The idea that he was supposed to be her great love had her blood boiling. And she was again left asking, _ How dare he? _ How dare he make her fall in love with him and then betray her so severely! Everything had been a lie--a charming lie--a sick sadistic fucking lie. He was not her soulmate, he was Ted Bundy! 

Sensing the riot building inside her, Gabriel rubbed soothing circles over her back. She prickled under his warm palm and at his attempt to calm her. 

_ Not you too, Gabriel. Don’t act like everything is going to be fine, because it’s far from. _

Her parents were dead on the parlor floor of her childhood home--the home her father had been paying off since he slipped the ring on her mother’s finger and promised her fidelity and forever.

And she left them like that. 

Like a coward, Gabby slunk back against her guardian angel and escaped. She escaped serial killer/soulmate Sam, and left her parents corpses to rot on the oriental area rug in the parlor. Her mother loved that rug. She had found it at a yardsale but told everyone at their dinner parties that she had it imported. Not that it mattered. That rug was just one of the many unimportant little things about her parents that persistently popped into Gabby’s brain while it refused to accept that they were gone.

If they were, then things were over. No more conversations or facial expressions. No more hugs or awkward family photos in fields with pumpkins. No more Helen, no more Bill. No more Mom and Dad. No more nagging phone calls to “check in,” or laundry on the weekends. No more Christmas traditions or spammy Facebook posts they had a tendency to share as all parents do. 

Soulmates loved each other. They didn’t destroy each other. 

Sam left only devastation in his wake. 

Grasping for anything to dispute her destined love, Gabby argued into her legs, “The devil is too evil to love anyone.” _ This is a mistake. It’s not real and I’m going to wake up tomorrow morning to both of my parents alive and well. _

“Lucifer is broken.” 

His name said aloud startled her more than the rumble of Gabriel’s voice. She did not appreciate him having a name. Devil, monster, creature--those were all much more fitting. 

Gabriel carried on as if not sensing--though she knew he did--her discomfort. “His love will not feel like the love of others. That does not mean it does not exist.”

Slowly detaching herself from him, Gabby looked him in the eye, trying to figure him out. “Are you defending him?” 

Gabriel’s lips pressed together, as if trying to keep a confidence to himself. Gabby could care less about confidences. She wanted answers, to know who was in her corner and who wasn’t. She had spent too long trusting the wrong person. 

Only then, noticing that it had stopped raining, Gabriel’s great wing retracted. His eyes squinted on a silent wince and Gabby realized the toll his sheltering her had taken on his body. She figured it was akin to holding her arm straight out at a ninety degree angle for hours, for that must have been how long they had been sitting there. It probably felt like his wing was going to fall off.

“He is my brother--and one of God’s creations.” He shrugged as he said simply, “I love him.” Before Gabby could respond, he shook his head and added, “That does not mean I enjoy his company or appreciate his behavior.” 

“His behavior!” Gabby screamed in disbelief. She hated how minuscule humans were to him that he reduced murder to poor behavior. Had he not grown to care for her parents too? He lived in her house with her, sat invisible at the end of her bed as her parents tucked her in. Once he revealed himself to them, he ate meals at their dinner table. Her mother often joked that he was like the son she never had and her father would say to all his friends, ‘if the boy weren’t gay, it’d be a different story,’ to explain why he allowed him over so much. Her mother took pictures of him and his--_ female _\--prom date in her kitchen, and her father had slipped him his first beer when no one was looking. Did none of that mean anything to him?

It did not matter that he was older than all of their ancestors added up. To the Darbys he was a stray kid that was kind to their daughter and so they accepted him into their home and loved him enough to make up for whatever troubles they imagined he faced. Was the archangel Gabriel really so high and mighty, slouching around in his fucking Chuck Taylors and thread-bear Ramones tee that he cared so little for such a gift? For the innocent people who willingly gave it?

Gabriel hung his head. If he did not actually feel remorse, he had at least tapped into his more humane side to pretend. Gabby scooted a couple of inches away from him and crossed her arms over her chest. As much as she loved and relied on him, in that moment, she hated that he was an angel. She resented his closeness to God--the entity that had cursed her to this lonely lot in life. If God had a plan then she wanted no part of it--no part of him. He was either cruel or he was careless, and she loathed how her life hung in the balance.

Scowling, she growled, “This is so screwed up and wrong. My parents died because a demon set his God-_damned_ sights on me!” Because God let him. No, because God, with his grand plans made him in the first place.

“Not a demon--Lucifer,” Gabriel corrected. “He’s the father of all demons.”

Gabby sucked in a breath and thought rather irritatedly, _ Who gives a shit? _ His rank in Hell meant nothing to her. Rolling her eyes at the absurdity of the situation, Gabby gave a sick chuckle. “Same difference. I’m a boring human and it’s not exactly like I’m supermodel-material. He’s got the wrong girl. And he’s definitely the wrong guy.”

Gabriel’s brows wrinkled in sadness as he touched his fingertip to her forehead and whispered, “See.”

_ Two men sat on a park bench watching children run and play. Though they sat with their backs to her, Gabby recognized Gabriel instantly. His shaggy brown hair and worn jean jacket were a dead giveaway. The man beside him had black hair, a diamond stud in one ear, and wore a suit that looked too expensive to breathe near, let alone ever eat or drink in. No one seemed to notice them, despite how out of place they looked. _

_ Gabby heard a dull murmur in her ears and knew they were talking to each other, though they never turned or opened their mouths. Stepping closer to listen better, she felt energy fizz and pop, her hair standing on end. Whether this sudden shift in atmosphere was warning her away or encouraging her closer, she wasn’t sure. Hesitating, Gabby heard Gabriel’s voice boom loudly in her ear, “It’s alright. It’s a memory. He can’t hurt you here.” Quietly, he added, “He wouldn’t anyway.” _

_ Gritting her teeth, she growled back, “He already did.” _

_ Sadness seeped through the bond and she knew Gabriel had retreated. His past self and the man she knew could only be Lucifer, continued their wordless conversation. Each step closer allowed her to make out more of it. _

_ "She will grow to be gorgeous," Gabriel thought. _

_ “She already is,” a faint admission chimed before Lucifer could tamp it down and make a show of scoffing. To detract from his moment of sincerity, Lucifer thought much louder, "Knowing my luck, she'll look like a hag--balding and snaggle-toothed." _

_ Gabriel laughed. "You know she won't," he countered. Then for whatever reason he added, "I'm sure she will make you a formidable mate." _

_ Mate. As in soul-mate. _

_ They were talking about her. Not some random girl, but her! Long before her parents died, before she started dating Sam--hell, before this very moment, Gabriel had known about Lucifer--known what she was to him. Why had he not battled Lucifer on her behalf back then? _

_ A forlorn apology rippled down the line to her and she declined to accept it. Fuming at how callous Gabriel was, for not only engaging in this backdoor conversation, but also for so brazenly showing it to her now as if it was not something to upset herself over. _

_ Water under the goddamn bridge. _

_ “Oh, what would you know about it?” Lucifer thought, accusingly. “You’re so bloody asexual, the closest you’ve ever been to orgasm is the shiver you get after a profound shit.” _

_ Gabriel turned to face him, not dignifying that with an answer. “Stop whining and stop deflecting. It’s not helpful.” _

_ “Is it whining to point out the truth?” Lucifer retorted, not bothering to address his deflecting, because he was still in the process of it. “Some could say I’m more honest than you, a Heavenly angel. For I, at least, am willing to point out father’s flaws--regardless of the consequences. Because it is true.” _

_ Gabby felt a wave of amusement wash over her and knew she was experiencing Gabriel’s feelings as he said, “Defiance does not equal bravery, neither does it mean that your truth is _ ** _the _ ** _ truth, dear brother.” _

_ “ _ ** _Dear brother,_ ** _ ” Lucifer mocked, his smile way too self-assured. “Admit it. You miss me.” _

_ “I miss who you used to be.” The image of a man with long golden locks and eyes the color of toasted sugar interrupted this private moment. It was Sam with long hair. Gabriel was seeing Lucifer as Sam. Her ex-murderer-boyfriend held light in the palm of his hands, shifting and shaping it. His grin was wide and proud in the memory, which made her resent his moment of happiness. _

_ Lucifer let out an exasperated breath. “Nonsense. I was dutifully boring back then.” He flashed him a mischievous grin. “Sin has made me so much more interesting.” _

_ Gabriel stifled the urge to remind him that it was rarely him that sinned, but instead the humans he toyed with. He was not so much the bad boy he would have everyone believe. Gabriel knew it would only egg him on to point it out and there was no need for melodramatics while they were surrounded by mortals. _

_ A strong sense of protectiveness filled Gabby as she heard Gabriel think to Lucifer, “Have you not intruded long enough? It is time you leave.” _

_ “And miss seeing my mate dump more sand in her diaper?” Lucifer snarked. _

_ The realization was a brass-knuckled punch to the chest, cracking the ribs meant to shield her heart from such brutal surprise attacks. Not only were they talking about her, but they were _ ** _watching _ ** _ her. Staring out past them, she spotted a toddler with bright red hair dig her way to China in the sandbox. Though, she most certainly didn’t want to, she recognized the purple pale with Sesame Street pictures on it as her own, and the black stuffed doggy that sat outside the box--the very same one she later named Abraxas and treated like a real dog because her parents wouldn’t let her have one--guarding her younger self while she created. _

_ “Never,” Lucifer said with such finality that a bottomless pit opened up in her stomach and left her free falling in his threat. _

_ Silence passed between them and Gabriel’s urge to leave was strong, just to get rid of Lucifer. She could also feel his determination to stay, not willing to take the chance of Lucifer not following suit. He would not leave her unattended. _

_ “Does he laugh?” _

_ The question seemed to come from out of nowhere, though it was clear that Lucifer was the one to ask it. What was rattling around in that mind of his? Gabby thought about stepping around them to look into his eyes and discern his meaning, but worried it might stop the memory playing before her if she were to see their faces. Though it felt like the worst time to prance around in someone else’s memories, she was still entranced by this makeshift world constructed around a moment she would not otherwise be privy to. _

_ Gabriel said nothing in response to Lucifer, and like a willful child, Lucifer pressed, “Does he? Does he sit back and laugh up there on his throne with his favorites. I bet they all get a good chuckle over how royally he fucked over his first born?” _

_ “It was as much a gift as it was a punishment,” Gabriel insisted. “Your soulmate.” _

_ “ _ ** _She_ ** _ , not ‘it.’ And,” Lucifer paused to point at younger Gabby. She tried not to think about how strange it was that he would clarify that point. “She was not a gift. She was a punishment. A great big ‘fuck you’ to me because I didn’t like his rules.” _

_ He bothered to clarify the point, only to then refer to her as a burden. What was his damage? He was the King of Hell, that’s what his damage was. Why would God do this to her? How could Gabriel harbor any warm feelings for him? _

_ Gabby saw her younger self shovel more sand into the bucket and then cry when it toppled over onto her lap. Tears welled in Gabby’s own eyes as she watched her mother crouch down and lift her up, tucking her head under her chin as she bounced and swayed her. _

_ “I mean, what am I supposed to do with that?” The disgust in Lucifer’s voice was caustic. _

_ “What you have been doing,” Gabriel replied. The tone of his thoughts were blaise, but Gabby could feel him, and knew his frustration. Her eyes stayed fixed on her mother as she rubbed her back and cooed into the crown of her head. “Wait for her to mature into the woman that becomes your match. Allow her the decision.” _

_ “You know what? You’re right, Gabriel. That’s a fine idea,” he agreed, too easily. _

_ Gabby’s mom set her down in the sandbox with a juice box and turned back toward her friends at the picnic table across the way. Lucifer rose from his seat and stalked toward younger Gabby, sitting all by herself again. _

_ “What are you doing?” Gabriel asked, alarmed enough to rise from his own seat, taking large strides to catch up to him. _

_ Lucifer smirked. “Taking what is mine--accepting my gift, if you will. We will see who has the last laugh now.” _

_ Gabby would have worried about the menace in his words, had she not gotten shot with another brief flashback of Lucifer staring down upon her infant self with adoration in his eyes. This memory within a memory assured her of Gabriel’s confidence in her safety. Then what concerned him? _

_ “You’re taking her to Hell?” Gabriel asked, incredulous. _

_ Lucifer shrugged. “I don’t see why not. If I must wait for her to blossom and decide, then I might as well sit comfortably at home while I do.” _

_ “And would she be comfortable? Away from her mother and father?” Gabriel’s question had Lucifer pausing mid-stride. “If she accepts her place as your soulmate, she will be damned to Hell with you.” _

_ “You make it sound like that’s a bad thing.” Lucifer’s attempt at petulance, instead sounded weary and forced. He was hiding behind a facade, even when he was invisible to her. Gabby hated that she knew that about him--that she had any knowledge of him. _

_ “You keep her here on Earth with her parents because you love her. You would have taken her long before now, if you didn’t,” Gabriel accused. _

_ Silence passed and Gabby listened to her own heartbeat thump between her ears. Finally, just when she was about to scream, Lucifer gave a rueful smile. “Maybe I just didn’t want the job of raising her. You have to admit, it might upset the balance in our relationship if I had to sleep train my forever-fuck once upon a time.” _

_ “Bullshit.” Gabriel’s laugh was surprisingly hearty. He was basking in his victory over catching his brother in such falsehood. _

_ Lucifer made a small O with his lips as if scandalized, though she hardly doubted the man ever was. “Does father know you hide such a foul tongue inside your mouth?” _

_ Gabriel ignored his question and instead, insisted, “Now that you have love--however you came about it,” he paused to allow his brother to roll his eyes. “Why destroy it? Why destroy her?” _

_ Lucifer did not respond with words, only the tilt of his head and a disappearing act. _

Of course, he would run away. 

Maybe that’s what Gabriel had been counting on. Gabby wasn’t sure what to think. “What was that supposed to prove?” 

He sighed at her defensive tone. “That he has always wanted you, and-” He met her eye as he said, “He has always restrained himself.”

Gazing out at the wet field around them, the darkness that had fallen, and the lack of civilization before them, Gabby failed to grasp his point. “And?”

Gabriel’s feathers ruffled behind them, shaking out the water as he cocked his head and insisted, “That is how he’s shown his affection for you.”

“And killing my parents was, what? A slip up?” The words flew out before she could stop them--not that she would have, even if she had expected them.

“I told you that he was broken.” Gabriel reached for her forehead and before she realized what he was doing, he whispered, “Remember.” 

Gabby was hit with a barrage of memories, all moving at the speed of light. Unlike before, these memories were her own, and yet Lucifer was in every one of them. He looked and sounded different, but was altogether the same, and he was everywhere. He was the toothy grin of her middle school janitor who saved her diorama from the trash when Mrs. Standish had cleaned up her classroom at the end of the year. He was the glint in her piano teacher’s eye, sharing the bench with her and approving each time she perfected a new tune. 

From the scent of the nice man who held the elevator for her and her mother at Neiman’s, to the smooth brush of fingers against hers as the new kid down the street handed her a small solo cup of lemonade--free from his stand, Lucifer was littered throughout. He lived on the fringe of her life, greedily stealing small bits of her time and attention. 

That was, except for whenever he edged closer. 

Memory of the night she met Sam had her biting back tears. The feel of his body wrapped around hers in bed, the taste of his lips, the way his finger traced over her nose as they gazed into each other’s eyes. 

“No!” She bit out, fighting against the current.

Turning away from Sam, Gabriel carried on this trip down memory lane, and had her remembering her sexy bachelor neighbor. Dougal. The way he tilted his head, how his mouth quirked to one side, the flirty way he teased her… He was Sam. All along. Accent or not. 

“No.” This time her protest was weak. _ Why? _She thought, desperately. 

The tidal wave of memories slowed to a rough current. A finger dipped in blood dragged over a pale forehead, a set of worried brown eyes darted around. Lucifer stood gloriously to the side, his raven-black hair, bone-straight and long down below his shoulders. His complexion was clear and creamy, the perfect frame for blue eyes so frosty that she felt the chill now, thousands of years later. His glossy black wings extended behind him as he snarled, ready to pounce. A woman came up behind him and placed her hand on his chest as she whispered to him. 

Who was this woman, and how had she tamed such a beautiful beast? Why did seeing her do so, only serve to irritate? Had she just called him beautiful?

Looking back into his eyes, Gabby watched as one warmed until all the blue had left it and a warm honey color began to take its place before finally turning to mocha. His eyes were no longer his own, which meant that neither was his heart. She bit the inside of her cheek as her old childhood faith bracelet came into focus and the smell of grass and sap filled her nostrils. 

_ “He was an angel first,” the priest reminded her as he held his hand out to help her stand. _

_ With each step back to camp, she turned his words over and over in her brain. “Did he ever find her? Or do the angels still have her?” _

_ “He found her, but she is not ready to be his yet.” _

She had long since forgotten the story of Lucifer’s soulmate, and the strange priest who told it. There was no mistaking the eager look in his eyes as he watched her like a hawk. The devil had come to her in the form of a priest. Had he done so to spit in the face of God or because he would take every opportunity to be near her? 

Her parents were dead and Gabriel chose this very moment to prove Lucifer’s love for her. Whose side was he on, anyway? Had he not taken great pains to guard over her, keep her safe from Lucifer? To even imply that the way Lucifer invaded her life was love, was asinine. 

He was a predator, grooming his prey. His telling her that story in the guise of a holy man was not to tell her his truth, but instead to make sure she knew what was expected of her. Planting the belief at an early age would only bode well for him later.

If he hadn’t murdered her parents. 

With a hard mental shove, Gabby wretched herself free from Gabriel. “Stop it!” She panted. “I don’t care.”

“Gabby,” he protested. 

“I want him dead!” The growl came from so far deep within herself, that she did not recognize it. He was an imposter, a stalker, and a murderer. She had nothing to give him but her pain, and wanted nothing in return but his own agony. “I want my parents back.”

“They have moved beyond.” 

It did not go without notice that he had not said whether or not they entered Heaven, though Gabby seriously doubted they could be anywhere but.

“No,” she repeated, not caring that it made no difference. “Bring them back.”

Gabriel reached for her again and she swerved out of his reach. “I can’t do that.” 

“No, I didn’t think so,” she spat bitterly, wiping her eyes. Sniffing back tears, she said, “But you can help me make him pay for what he’s done.” 

Her guardian angel’s pained expression told her all she needed to know. He would be of no help to her. “Take me home.”

“Gabby-”

“My parents need to be buried,” she said matter of factly. She lifted her chin as she added, “They have waited long enough. I would very much like to get them situated before I take him out.” 

Gabriel rose to stand in front of her. “Take him out?”

Her voice turned steely as she promised, “Soulmate or not--he won’t get away with this.” 


	15. Unlike Other Men

**Five and a half hours prior**

At the sound of the bell ringing above the door, Gabby flicked her gaze up to spy the next customer. Her tummy did a somersault when she saw Sam. Even though they had been seeing each other for a few months already, he still had that effect on her. Unlike other men, Sam did not play things cool. He insisted on exclusivity right from the start and made it his mission in life to show her just how serious he was.

He had his friends with him today. Though, Sam had a way of making her feel as though they were the only two people in the world, regardless of who was around. It was one of his many qualities that was impossible not to love. 

Gabby bit the inside of her cheek, a little startled by that thought. Love was a strong word, meant for people who intended on forever. They were in college. College girls who talked in ‘forevers’ were usually the ones shaving their heads in complete heartache-breakdown shortly after graduation. That was so not going to be Gabby. 

While she could see herself with Sam long term, forever was just too final of a word to be realistic. Still, whenever she considered the possibility of anyone after Sam--Sam who spoke of the stars and held her in bed most nights--the thought didn’t sit well. It wasn’t as if he had made any declarations, himself, either. Although, one could argue--and she would listen--that he had not because neither had she. No guy in his right mind would make such a proclamation without knowing with some degree of certainty that the feelings were returned. Boys were notoriously cowardly whenever it came to emotions. Except, of course, for Sam, who actively pursued her and always seemed to say whatever was on the tip of her own tongue. 

The man was an anomaly!

Pushing such thoughts aside, Gabby shoved the notepad she carried in the pocket of her apron and approached him. There was no point in pretending that he was like any other customer, as Donna--the owner--was well aware that he was Gabby’s boyfriend. So, instead of keeping up any pretense, she wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him like no one was watching. 

A couple of whistles from behind the counter let her know that people most certainly were. Sam was only too happy to ignore them all and reciprocate. As usual, she was the first to find her senses and gently pull her lips from his. “What are you doing here?”

“I can’t stop in to see my girl?” His breath tickled her neck. 

“Of course you can, silly.” Her cheeks dimpled. Her smile was easy--it always was with him. “It’s just that I don’t get off for another couple of hours.” 

About a week back, Gabby had seen a sign in the window looking for help and filled out an application. Sam didn’t seem very impressed with her choice in work, but she suspected that was because he didn’t much care for work in general. It was hard to tell since he never talked about his family--and she didn’t press--but it seemed as though he came from money. 

Must have been nice. 

Work study at the library was not covering everything, and Gabby didn’t want to burden her parents by telling them, so picking up a few shifts on the weekend seemed like the best solution. Sam made the work more enjoyable by popping in far too frequently. Donna never said anything, so Gabby saw no need to shoo him away. 

“I know.” His arms tightened around her, giving her a squeeze. “But also,” he drawled, loosening his grip to pull back and grin. “I’m hungry.” He was fibbing. Sam was hardly ever hungry, which was probably why she always insisted on feeding him off her plate--it was the only way he ate anything. 

“Seat me?” 

“You’ve forgotten your friends,” she chided, because he always seemed to. “Again.” 

He chuckled softly. “Oh.” 

“Yeah,  _ oh _ .” For such a sweet boyfriend, he treated his friends like window dressing. She didn’t understand how he had so many, when he hardly acknowledged them. Gabby looked over his shoulder and made it a point to smile at one of them. “Hey, Bodhi.” 

“Hey Gabs,” he answered with a half smile. It dropped as soon as Sam turned to scowl back at him, apparently not appreciating the distraction or the familiarity.

Gabby rolled her eyes at her super-cool boyfriend’s tendency to get a bit jelly and swatted at his chest. “Stop it.” He had nothing to fear, and he should have known that by now. 

“How can I?” He asked, flashing her an innocent smile. “Every man wishes he were me.” 

“So conceited,” she chirped, purposefully misunderstanding his meaning.

“It has nothing to do with me, and everything to do with you,” he leaned in to whisper. Apparently for as little as he cared about an audience, he at least had some reserve for her place of work.

She wasn’t supposed to like hearing him say such things, but she did. It came straight out of all the romance novels she snuck out of the library.  _ Sam  _ came out of all those romance novels. He was handsome, confident, interesting, rich--probably, patient, and possessive. There were times that it felt a little overkill, but even that was endearing. Though he never used the word,  _ love _ , he was definitely throwing everything he had into this. She highly doubted he had tried this hard with anyone else he had been with. 

Needing to quiet such thoughts, she turned to kiss him. She was doing that a lot lately--kissing him to calm the storm. Gabby had always been a girl lost in her own head, but she found herself wandering around in it much more now that Sam had come into her life. 

Judging by the quizzical look in his eyes when their kiss broke, he could sense that there was more to her sudden affection than she was letting on. Unsure how to explain, Gabby decided it best not to. “Come with me,” she said, pulling from him.

She only looked over her shoulder once as he followed her to a booth, but could feel his eyes devouring her with each step. He stood off to the side to let his friends sit first, and she knew it was not because he was being polite. He planned to take every opportunity presented to be near her and would not be thwarted by a row of friends to do it. 

Gabby passed out a bunch of menus, smiling as she did, and trying desperately to ignore the tickle at her knee that was Sam reaching under the table. “Sweet potato fries?” She asked innocently, determined not to react. 

All at once, the teasing stopped and something in his expression changed. “Why would you ask me that?”

Why was he acting suspicious of fries? Weird. “Because they’re your favorite.” 

“No, they’re not.”

“Um, yes. They are.” She tucked the hair that had fallen from her ponytail back behind her ear. She knew for a fact that Sam liked sweet potato fries the most because out of everything she fed him, he ate more of them than anything else. “You always finish mine.”

He blinked a couple of times before a slow smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. “You paid attention?”

“Why so surprised?”  _ Had no one ever bothered to before? _ Yeah, she seriously doubted any of the girls from his past meant much at all. Not that she was comparing herself to them, because unlike him, she wasn’t prone to jealousy. Nope, not at all. 

He cocked his head, his eyes catching the light as he said, “You surprise me every day.” His voice deepened and he swiped the tip of his tongue over his lips to wet them before adding, “ _ Stardust _ .”

Gabby held the breath in her lungs, as she stared down at his mouth. The air around them grew thick with his words, his eyes, and the meaning behind them both. He was a terrible flirt that encouraged her dirty mind. 

“I am fortunate to call you mine,” he said, all the amusement gone from his words, spoken like a confession. As if it were a bad thing, or something safer kept to himself. And yet, he did not. He shared it with her. The sheer power of such a moment was enough to nail her feet to the floor and make her every bit the prey to his predator, caught and entirely ready to be devoured. 

“Nachos.”

Gabby blinked. “Hm?” 

Bodhi reached over another one of Sam’s friends to set the menu down on the edge of the table. “We’ll take nachos.”

“Oh! Sure. Of course.” She flashed a smile at the whole table, avoiding Sam as she did. “I’ll go put those in.” Turning on her heel, she silently cursed herself for looking so dumb, and ran before Sam could draw her back. 

“Miss!” A man at table four waved her down. 

“What can I get ya?” She asked, remembering his name was James. He was a regular at Donna’s and though he and the rest of the men at his table wore the Valhalla Riders leathers--and looked pretty rough--he had been nothing but polite. 

Donna said it was because he was addicted to her blueberry pie and wouldn’t screw with his ‘supplier.’ She had said it loud enough for him to hear, with a wink, a smile, and a hand on her hip. James, of course, laughed and told his ‘boys’ to tip their  _ ‘supplier’  _ well. 

“Just the check,” he replied, giving Gabby a good looking-over.

She cleared her throat so he would drag his eyes back up to somewhere decent. While he hadn’t been subtle about checking her out, he also hadn’t been particularly rude about it either. Gabby knew the difference between basic male reflex and downright leering. 

She smiled back because she knew she had judged him right when he at least pretended to be embarrassed as he added, “Please.”

“I’m on it.” 

Gabby was only a couple of steps away when she heard a low voice snicker. “You can  _ get on  _ me, sweetheart.”

She turned, her eyes darting around the table. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” 

It was the biker sitting across from James. He had never offered a name, and neither had he acted so inappropriately before. Even though they were well out of earshot, she glanced over to Sam’s table. She wasn’t looking to get rescued, but she searched for him all the same. 

His warm amber eyes shone brightly at her in rapt attention. He definitely knew something was up. The question was: what would he do about it? 

“Billy, what the fuck are you doing?” James growled. “Shut your face.” 

“Can’t boss,” he said, his eyes never leaving Gabby. He licked his lips, the small metal ball of his tongue ring running between them, before he said, “She might like to sit on it.”

Gabby gasped. Never before had anyone spoken like that around her. She knew men could be crass, but Jesus, this was a bit much. James reached across the table and grabbed his friend by the collar. He had just begun to let loose on him when Gabby caught sight of Sam. He sat, not moving a muscle--with the exception of his finger. His eyes glowed brightly as he swirled his index finger on the table. 

“Sam?” She mouthed over to him. 

He kept staring at the biker table intently. It certainly was a spectacle, with voices raising and fists shaking, but surely not enough that he hadn’t noticed her. He looked like he was in a trance. 

Gabby stepped away from the table, trying to get his attention when a hand grabbed her waist and yanked her back. 

“No you don’t,” Billy hissed.

Fear clawed up her throat as he gripped her tightly to him. His stale breath against the side of her face and his groin molesting her backside through their clothes had her stomach churning. She squirmed in his hold, looking for any weakness and finding none. “James!” She pleaded out of desperation. Where his friend may have lost his damned mind, he at least, seemed to have some reason left to him. 

He rose from his seat and adjusted his belt. “You want me to get rid of this shithead?” She was about to nod her head in agreement when he finished, “So we can finally be alone?”

What?!

James towered over her. His large tattooed hand reached behind his back to draw a gun. The bikers had looked rough enough when they first came in, but she had not seen any weapons on them. Gabby was naive to think they were just there enjoying pie, completely unarmed. As if they would take a twenty minute break from being outlaws for the sake of a smile and some extra a la mode. 

“Fuck off!” His man snarled, tightening his grip on her. “You wouldn’t dare pull your piece on me. Not after I got you out of that mess back in Greenwich.”

“Fuck Greenwich. Stop trying to cash in on old shit,” James barked back. Gone was the man who smiled politely as he ordered another slice of ‘Miss Donna’s’ blueberry pie. Gone and replaced with this creep who thought nothing of drawing a weapon on his friend in the middle of a public place. “Let her go. I called her.”

_ Called her. _

What in the hell was she hearing right now? As if she were a piece of candy or a toy that sat between two little boys calling dibs.

Billy let her go to draw his pistol. The rest of the men piled out of the booth, all brandishing their own guns and it was impossible to determine who’s side they were on in all the chaos. James seemed like he was the boss, but if that were the case, not everyone seemed so against Billy’s decision to mutany. 

Strong arms wrapped around her, pulling her against a body she recognized well. Never before had she felt so relieved for such an embrace. Sam may not have been able to protect her, but he was a comfort against the violence before them. He cradled her back and gave her a sense of security that she knew was false, but was grateful for, all the same. The steady rise and fall of his chest behind her helped her to regulate her own breathing as they looked on. 

It was madness--one minute everyone was civil and dining, and the next they were horndogs with itchy trigger fingers. If they could turn on a dime like that--with witnesses--who knew what else they were capable of. She hadn’t realized that she was crying until she heard Sam whisper in her ear, “Shh, I’ve got you. No one will ever hurt you.”

He couldn’t make such promises. He was just one man with no back up. His friends hadn’t even left their table. She didn’t blame them--they were all college boys, no real match for these hardened criminals. But it didn’t matter. He told her that no one would hurt her and even though it was stupid, she let herself believe him--in the feeling his words gave her. Because Sam was unlike other men in so many ways, she had learned to leave logic at the door and trust in feeling. She felt safe with Sam. 

Her eyes squeezed shut. “I’m scared,” she admitted, because for some reason, telling him felt good. He would want to make it all better, and if he could, she would let him. 

Sam’s arm tightened around her. She felt his lips move again as he asked, “What if I could make all the bad men go away?”

It was one thing to fantasize, but this was reality and they were in the middle of a standoff. 

“Do you love me?” He asked before she could think too long on his last impossible question.

Now? He wanted to throw around the ‘L word’ now? She shook her head. “What?”

His breath on her neck gave her a shiver--or maybe that was simply the sense of impending doom rattling her. “I’m not like other men, Gabrielle.”

She knew that--had even been thinking it.

“I’m so fucking sick and tired of you taking all the good pussy for yourself!” Billy’s growl intruded upon their private moment. 

James chuckled. “Maybe if you were less of a fuckup you’d get a little more ass.”

“That does it!” 

Gabby flinched as Billy cocked the gun. Time seemed to slow, allowing her to become acutely aware of the beat of her own heart and warmth of Sam around her. “Let me take care of them.” 

Sam wasn’t making any sense. He had no weapon, and more than that, he had his arms full with her at present. 

_ Say yes. _

It wasn’t a whisper or a sound. It was a thought. One that wasn’t entirely her own, and yet it felt like it could be. Who else could it have been? She had the strange urge to crane her neck around and catch a glimpse of Sam, as if he had been the one to think it straight into her head. Fear must have been turning her delusional. 

His hand reached for hers, threading their fingers together before giving them a gentle squeeze. Again, the thought came, somewhat more impatiently this time,  _ Come on, say yes. _

Startled by the insistence in it, Gabrielle held her breath and glanced around her. 

_ Now, Gabrielle! _

Tormented by this great and unrelenting unknown, she tossed aside all reason and uttered a strangled, “ _ Yes _ ,” to the thoughts in her head. Whether they originated there or not, she lacked the luxury of caring. Instinct took over, clutching at any possibility of survival. 

Gabby was too alive to allow herself to die. 

All at once the guns fired in both directions. The sound of the bullets piercing leather and flesh rang in her ears. James and Billy didn’t die instantly--their friends popping off a couple of rounds themselves to stay in the fray. It was a miracle that she hadn’t gotten caught with a ricochet. 

Sam pressed a kiss into the crown of her head before stepping out from behind her. She grabbed at him, trying to get him to stay put. It wasn’t safe yet, they were still duking it out with deadly weapons. Anything could happen, and probably nothing good. 

“It’s okay,” he promised, with a smile that was much too easy for the situation. He snapped his fingers and all movement suspended, with the exception of her blinking eyes. 

She lacked the strength to question, to open her mouth and say a single word. This was unreal, impossible, psychotic. Sam smirked as he walked toward bikers, grabbing both Billy and James, specifically. 

What was he doing?! 

They screamed in response to his touch, their paralysis broken. Their feet kicked and dangled as they fought against his hold, though he made lifting them by their necks look so effortless. Piss ran down Billy’s pants and dripped on the tile floor. James whimpered a plea to be released. 

“You will apologize to my mate before I let you die.” 

It was Sam’s voice that she heard, and his mouth that she saw moving, but it was not Sam that said this. It couldn’t be.  _ Mate _ ?

The men stammered unintelligibly as Sam explained over them. “I know how this looks. But, I assure you, I did not make them say anything they weren’t already thinking.” His jaw tightened as he glared at them, flexing his grip. “They played polite while they stuffed their fat faces with pie, but their thoughts contained nothing but filth. If you only knew all the depraved things they fantasized of doing to you.” He let go then, but they stayed where they were, suspended in the air, squirming in protest. “Isn’t that right?”

Gabby hugged herself, lost in a nightmare that had seeped into reality. Nothing about this was right. Especially not even the tiny part of her that surprisingly wasn’t scared, but instead somewhat calm. The ‘bad men’ weren’t hurting her, just like Sam had promised. 

“ _ Apologize _ ,” he hissed, his voice growing unfamiliar. 

The men stammered broken apologies amid their screams of agony. He was doing something to them, she couldn’t tell what, but it was truly painful whatever it was. Good. Not moments before, these men were set to rape her. She was not God; she did not decide who deserved to live or die, but she did decide who she stuck her neck out for. These men would get no saving from her--assuming Sam would even listen. He wasn’t exactly himself in the midst of this living nightmare. 

“Good,” Sam praised and then threw his arms back. Blood splattered as long fleshy cords fell to the floor and coiled like spaghetti. 

Gabby’s own loud shriek broke the stunned silence that followed. Her feet moved out from under her legs and slipped on the blood, landing her on her ass, looking up at her boyfriend. Everything soft and sweet about Sam had vanished, replaced with something much sharper and savage. She backed herself up against the counter and slowly rose on wobbly legs.

Sam turned, stepping over the puddles of people to get to her. “Breathe,” he cooed. While his expression had softened, she could not unsee the cruelty she had discovered.

“I understand it’s a lot to take in, but Stardust-”

If only she had kept her ignorance. If only she didn’t know. Tears welled and she wished she could go back in time. 

“We have so much to talk about.” 

Shaking her head, she leaned back, desperately trying to avoid his touch--his very nearness.

His jaw tightened, though that was the only visible sign of his discontent. His voice remained level--soft even, as he pleaded, “I’m really going to need you to hear me out.” He was calm--inappropriately so--as he continued to approach her. His arm extended and she dodged it, falling back on the floor. Scrambling to get back up, she banged her head hard on the counter.

“Oh!” He winced for her. “Here, let me help you.” Again he reached for her, his hands gripping her forearms carefully as he helped her stand. How could he be so vicious a moment ago and suddenly so gentle now? Nothing made sense anymore. Who was he?  _ What  _ was he?

His head tilted to look lovingly upon her. His amber eyes never broke from hers as he called over his shoulder, “You may eat now.” 

All of his friends--who she had forgotten until just then--rose from the booth they had been silently sitting in. Their faces contorted into horrifyingly inhuman grins as they lunged for the pile of Valhalla Riders and began tearing them limb from limb to feast upon. These were not innocent college boys who accidentally befriended a monster in disguise--they did not share in her mistake. They too were monsters of their own kind. Gabby fought the panic rising in her throat. She had called these creatures friends, served them appetizers and laughed at their jokes.

Why hadn’t Gabriel steered her clear of them? Protected her? Surely he had sensed their danger. She hadn’t, not even on the most primal of levels, but he was an angel! An angel meant to be guarding her. Where was he?!

“Gabrielle. Look at me, please.” 

She was a ball of nerves, starting at the sudden sound of his voice. His face came back into focus and her stomach churned at the disgusting sounds of animals feeding in the background. Water poured from her gums, slicking the way for her supper to reappear. She choked and coughed on the burn of stomach acid as she puked on the floor by her feet. 

He stepped back, avoiding vomit. There was just enough space between them now for her to catch sight of the door. Adrenaline surged through her veins, forcing her feet. Her body would take this opportunity for escape even if she was too dazed to see it for herself. Gabby heard the door slam behind her as she fumbled for the keys to unlock her car. Tears rolled down her cheeks and wet the top of her uniform as the engine roared to life. Her lights came on and he was there, standing in the doorway with the fluorescent lights flickering in the diner behind him. 

More gore sprayed up on the windows as she threw the car in reverse and punched it. She was thrown forward into the steering wheel and had to force herself upright again as she shifted into drive and sped out.

Mile markers flew by in the night, the car swallowing more and more yellow dotted line. “Gabriel!” She shouted in the cabin of the car. “I need you!” She needed him a while ago, but she would take seeing him now over not at all. Apparently, he knew that, because her senses heightened all of a sudden, as they did when Gabriel came around. The name of each interstate exit flashed before her eyes without any meaning and she paid no attention to where she was going, only that she was going. She moved through muscle memory and a strong survival instinct, steering the wheel to the one place in the world she felt the safest.

A warmth overtook her just as the familiar foliage of the cul de sac she had grown up in came into view. “Show yourself to me. Please,” she sobbed.

An overwhelming sense of caution swept over her and she knew it was Gabriel imposing upon her. He only ever tried to influence her when things were severe. “Stop it!” She didn’t need his warning, only his help. “I don’t care.” He was her guardian angel, after all. He was meant to charge deep into the most brutal of situations to save her, wasn’t he? Where was he back in that diner? And why was he hiding from her right now, in the confines of this car?

She put the car in park and closed her eyes, her voice barely above a whisper as she cried, “You’re supposed to help me.” 

The air changed, the scent of rain grew heavy in the cab. The familiar outline of Gabriel’s face appeared beside her, his expression solemn. “Gabby,” he started and then stopped. 

“Tell me this is all just a really bad dream.” Tears rolled down her cheeks as she gripped the steering wheel, needing something to anchor herself with. “That I will wake up and everything will be normal. Everyone will be alive and Sam will be Sam again.” 

Gabriel’s eyes fell to his lap. “I can not.” 

“He’s evil,” she said more for her own benefit than his. 

“He’s…” Gabriel hesitated, searching for the words. “He has strayed from his path.” 

“Bullshit.” It was not the first time Gabby had ever sworn, though profanity still felt foreign on her tongue. However, it seemed like the most appropriate response, all things considered. “He’s evil and he’s-”

“Gabrielle!” 

Gabby looked up, spotting Sam--or the creature that he had become--through the windshield. “You’re scared, I get it,” it said. “But you do not need to be.”

“He will not harm you,” Gabriel said. 

After witnessing the slaughter in the diner, it was difficult to believe her guardian angel’s assurances. Especially since, Gabby recognized the dated brick archway that was the entrance to her childhood home, behind Sam. 

She went rigid as she realized that she had autopilotted home…where her parents lived. Her hand shook as she reached for the door handle. “No, no, no, no.”

“Gab-”

But Gabriel’s whispered voice was cut off when she opened the car door and sprung out. Her parents were already at the door, Mom in her nightgown and Dad in his blue plaid flannel bottoms and old faded university tee. 

“Gabby? Is everything alright?” Mom called out. Her furrowed brow said she doubted it. 

“Of course it’s not alright, Helen. Just look at her,” her father groused. Then he looked to Sam, standing between them. “Is this man bothering you, sweetheart?”

Gabby’s eyes darted from her parents to Sam. He ignored their presence behind his, so intent on her. “We are soulmates. You and I.”

She stuttered, “Nnnoo.”

“Yes, Gabrielle.” He took a tentative step forward with his hands out. He looked as if he were taming a wild animal, mindful of the danger should she spook. But it was the other way around; he was the wild animal. He was the danger. 

“Hey, get away from her!” 

“I’m calling the police!” Gabby’s mother screamed, her cellphone up and dialing. 

Gabby shook her head at her father as he stepped toward Sam. She wanted to tell him to stop, not to lay a hand on this devil, but when she locked eyes with Sam, she could not utter a sound. The eyes she had known so well, had become foreign to her, one a bright blue and the other a deep dark brown. She startled at the mirror image of her own. “You know it’s true.”

How had he done that? Moreover, how had he done anything he had that night? No.  _ Why  _ had he done that? Gabby cleared her throat. “I don’t know anything.” He began to protest when she continued, finding the smallest ounce of courage to cling to as she said, “Except that you think it’s funny to torment me.”

“ _ Torment  _ you?” His jaw dropped, crestfallen. 

Gabby blinked back at him. After murdering multiple people before her very eyes, standing between her and her family, and even going so low as to mock her heterochromia, he dared to feign shock. Fear had been giving way to indignation as Gabby ground her teeth at him.

“I love you, Gabrielle,” he declared over the sound of her parents fussing behind him.

Gabby’s own heart beat between her ears. He  _ loved  _ her? This creature who had the power to appear out of thin air and end life with the snap of his fingers--who lived and hid inside Sam’s body--loved her. What had she done wrong to be so cursed? So  _ damned _ ? 

“You can’t love.” The words had slipped. They were not meant to be said aloud. Only a lunatic would say something like that aloud. Rejecting this beast. What in the Hell was she thinking? 

Her blood chilled and her scream shook with the shiver of it. “Gabriel!”

“No, don’t!” It reached for her, Sam’s face a mixture of pain and anger. “Leave him out of this,” it demanded, his voice hard with anger and conviction. “You don’t need him. You need me.” He stopped and shook his head, correcting himself. “No. We need each other.”

The worried wrinkle in his forehead looked so much like Sam’s. He sounded like him too. His voice and his words. Had he killed Sam and taken his body? Another wave of nausea hit her as she remembered each night she invited him into her bed. Had he been the creature all along? 

“Leave my daughter alone!” 

Behind Sam, Gabby caught sight of her mother’s arms flailing around trying to pull her father back away. “Bill! Stop it! The police are coming!” 

The police couldn’t stop this thing. They hadn’t seen what he was capable of, what  _ it  _ had done. If armed policemen didn’t stand a chance, then neither did her father--the man that had protected her from the monsters under the bed--the ones that her guardian angel had missed. 

This thing had laser focus on her, seeing and hearing hardly anything else. For as vicious as he was, he at least pretended to treat her with care. If she were it’s only weakness, then perhaps she was the only way to combat it. The need to protect her loved ones gave her courage to fight her fear--to fight him. 

“I don’t want you,” she whispered, drawing a deep breath. 

His pained expression gave her the strength she needed to repeat the words, feeling each one of them deep, to the marrow of her bones. Staring into his eyes--the ones he had manipulated to mock her own--the fury inside had her breathing hate, “How could I ever want you? You’re evil. A beast. A  _ murderer _ .” 

“No,” he denied, his voice breaking. “No, you don’t understand.” 

He seemed so weak in that moment, pleading his case to her as if she was the one with all the power. As if he hadn’t just ripped men from the inside out without a second thought. 

“Go away,” she growled back at him. If he would give her power, then she would use it. 

His mouth closed then and his lips thinned as he watched her, silently absorbing the moment between them. Air filled her lungs in big gulps, her fists tight at her sides. While he maintained an eerie stillness, she was panting with the urge to fight or flight. 

“No.” It was one simple word that held an unbearable weight. “This is not how this goes!” 

She trembled then, stripped of her bravery. Fear gripped her in it’s icy fist, rippling over her flesh in goosebumps.

“You love me. Say you love me.” It was an order. 

She held her tongue. Too scared to breathe a word. 

Suddenly, he opened his mouth and uttered a growl so deep and so raw that it swallowed everything around them in waves of sound. She barely recognized her own name echoing inside of it. Erasing all else until everything felt like nothingness, and nothing felt like anything, she knew only his anguish pulsing in the void. Her toes curled to grip the pavement through the soles of her shoes. The ground shook back, as if laughing at her feeble attempt to keep from flying away. There was no more gravity, only sound--powerful life threatening sound. 

And then it all turned red. 

Everything. 

Red rain in the sky, that did not last but a minute, colored the ground beneath them. It was warm against her face and smelled like the sea--salty and full of life. She blinked to clear it from her lashes. Things came into focus slowly and in an indiscernible order. First, her shoes, no longer white. Then the walkway, steam rising off it in a pink mist. The pavement was hot from the summer sun beating down on it all day, and though the rain felt warm on her skin, it was still cool enough to hiss and cloud. 

That was when she caught sight of a gooey clump by his foot. She squinted her eyes, trying to get a better look, recognizing her mother’s nightgown before anything else. Her vision blurred then, protecting her from the worst of it.

They were dead. Both of them. Mother and Father. 

She knew that, logically. What else could they be? They were on the ground, covered in blood, limp and no longer living. So, of course, they were dead. Weren’t they? It was hard to be sure of anything, and yet something inside herself told her not to question--not to put herself through it.

Even if it was true, nothing felt real anyway. 

There were muffled sounds that did not register that could have come from anyone or anything and would not have mattered in the slightest. All the vibrance in the world had faded, and the only thing that remained was mere existence. 

She was in shock--she had to be. 

On some level, she knew that. On every other level, she couldn’t have given a damn. Her feet carried her a few steps away before another vicious growl filled the air and shook the ground. Pausing, she looked back over her shoulder. She shivered as she stared into eyes she no longer recognized. Sam’s hair had lost all its color, becoming the blackest black she had ever seen. His face set hard, and for the first time that night, the monster no longer resembled her boyfriend. Though his coloring was different, his features were still much the same. It was the ruthlessness in his look that was stranger to her. 

_ Gabriel _ , she silently cried, and this time, she felt him near. 

He was not half way across the world, or even still sitting in the car. He was behind her when the creature too noticed him. His poison left him, and he begged once more, “ _ Stardust _ .”

Gabriel’s chest was solid behind her back, warming and protecting her. It was his arms that wrapped around her, this time, protecting her. And it was his powerful wings that beat to spirit her away. 

  
  



	16. Endless Supply

**4 Years, 7 months, 13 days, and 22 minutes of heartbreak later takes us back to now... **

The casino lights flash pink and green against my mate, distorting her image into a cheaper version of herself. She likes that though--the distortion. She hides behind whatever lens people hold up to her, fooling them, not letting them see her true beauty. Her hair is clipped up and out of the way. Long silver earrings sparkle against the creamy column of her neck. Her uniform--if you can call it that--is mere scraps of material that lift and press against the flesh it barely covers. Personally, I would rather she save such an outfit for my eyes alone, but I am well aware that my preferences do not factor. I am not exactly in her favor, so baring herself to strangers is just one of the many ways she insists on insulting me.

That and the company she keeps--that piece of shit Kenny and his men. He is the scum beneath your shoe and she is so much more than he could ever aspire to be. It is ridiculous that he is able to breathe the same air as her. So, naturally, the fact that she allows herself to get sucked into his pathetic schemes, is grating. 

She thinks she’s fooling people right now, but she’s not. Anyone who knows to look, can see clearly that she’s casing her place of employment. Gabrielle is not a born criminal--not as subtle as she would like to pretend. 

Unfortunately, Kenny has her convinced that her insider info will help him and his goons rob the place. Which, in turn, will give her enough cash to end her business association with this loan shark and buy her loft outright--her dingy, cockroach infested dwelling. I wouldn’t let a stray mutt live there, and yet the most precious creature in all of existence eats and sleeps there--occasionally dragging unsuspecting men back for me to punish. 

No one can have her. Only me. 

I don’t know how many times I’ve said it...

Because of our history, I had allowed it once--her having someone. I wanted to be fair, but I couldn’t bare it. For as much as she blusters, I have to believe that she found no pleasure either. So, never again. 

We are destined to be together and I can wait all eternity for her forgiveness if I have to. She will be mine again. You see, up until now, this has been a bit of a history lesson, allowing you to see what brought us to this point. Not anymore. No. From here on out, this is the story of how I get my soulmate back. 

I stand on the betting floor, eyeing her through the throng of women around me--my essence in the mortal realm attracts them. Their sugary sweet perfume mixed with desperate pheromones uninterest me, though, they at least serve as decent cover. 

As much as I do not appreciate my mate spending her nights in this cesspool, I am grateful that I can more easily get away with spying on her here, otherwise I would have to rely on my windows from Hell. They are limited, at best, as I’m pretty sure I’m not supposed to have them. 

Oh well. 

From my vantage point I see my mate flash a toothy grin to some bald guido wearing too many gold chains around his neck, and pocket six of his chips. I roll my eyes and wish she would knock it off already. 

Gabrielle was never like this. She had been the quintessential good girl, saying her prayers and keeping her legs crossed. And then her world turned upside down and she could not cope. Feelings balled up on themselves and beat against her insides. With no one to turn to that she could trust--we all know that her guardian angel is a flake at best--she was left with no other option but to act out. 

She isn’t a sinner, perse, but she does like to flirt with the line.

If it were within my capabilities, I would take back the horrible night that changed her. I would have swallowed back the rejection and regrouped. I had been too shocked, too insistent. I thought that we had built something together, something strong enough to withstand the truth I had been hiding. 

She was-- _ is _ , my soulmate. She is the only creature in existence that is supposed to accept me for who I am. Not recoil at the first sign of imperfection. As a mortal, however, she is more delicate. Of course, father knew this when he cursed me with her. This is the punishment--to hand over my heart to a creature too fragile to hold it. 

Ugh. 

I can’t believe I just said that. 

It’s not true. It’s just the hurt talking. 

In all actuality, Gabrielle Darby is the strongest woman I know. She does not cower in fear, or let anyone push her around. Not her boss, the loanshark she associates with, or his goons. Not even the  _ devil  _ himself. In fact, I don’t know a single other woman that would have the courage to summon me just to tell me to go fuck myself--which she did, on two separate occasions. 

This woman twists my insides until I forget which way is up and what day it is. I know what you’re thinking, ‘But Lucifer, isn’t losing track of time standard for immortals?’ To which I would reply, ‘Yes, and you’re missing the point!’ 

The way she moves sets off all my predatory senses. My eyes track her movements, looking for the perfect opportunity to pounce. Every muscle in my body grows taut as I fight the urge to pin her against the nearest anything and show her how perfectly we fit together.

It’s not all about her form, because even just the way she thinks has me absolutely salivating. 

Jesus fucking Christ, this is embarrassing.

What? 

Oh, don’t act surprised. 

Of course, I would take the lord’s name in vain because really, fuck that kid. He walked around banging a chick as he cried all, ‘boo-hoo carpentry is hard, I’m gonna walk instead.’ You know, a guy walks off a jobsite today and they aren’t exactly calling him the messiah. 

But, I digress. 

My soulmate does not want me. 

She walks the Earth obstinate and jaded, willing to say and do anything to deter me. What she doesn’t seem to realize is that I don’t care about the crass wrapping she comes in. Just her. I only want her--from the moment I knew she existed. 

Completely unaware of my continued inner turmoil, she reaches for another small pile of chips and my hand shoots out to catch hers. It’s not to stop her from stealing, or even to get her attention, but because of the electricity that passes between us when we touch. 

I’ve developed a bit of an addiction to it and she’s constantly denying me my fix. 

In this way she is much stronger than I am.

If only she would relent.

Just once. I’d make forever out of once.

The energy between us is so strong, everyone in a fifty foot radius can feel it--even the dimwitted women glued to me. They all recede a step, hovering in the periphery. Now that they’re out of the way, I use my grip to whirl her around so we’re face to face. The rich shimmer of one warm chocolate eye, is a stark contrast to the dull artificial brown that shields her other. 

“ _ You _ ,” she growls. Her voice is laced with disgust to put me off. Too bad for her that it wasn’t revulsion I saw in her eyes for a fraction of a second, but instead something akin to excitement. 

“Yes,  _ me _ .” I grin back, taking pleasure in the feel of her hand fitting perfectly in mine.

She must enjoy it too, because she rips her hand away and her lips purse, steeling herself against me. Her expressions are the pages of a book I’ve read over and over, worn and thin. I wonder if she’s just as tired of this as I am. A wall goes up between us as she asks, “What do you want?”

I fight the urge to be honest. It only pushes her further away. 

What I  _ want  _ is my mate at my side and in my bed, healing my heart, sharing my soul, and making Hell a home rather than exile. But, I would even settle for how things used to be, dancing under the stars I created to share with her. If only we could push all the hurt and hate aside and simply love one another. 

I know she isn’t ready for that. Not yet. So, I slip back into step and play the part of the sleazy devil looking to corrupt. My pupils dilate as I take my time drinking her in, head to toe. It’s what she expects me to do, and despite that fact, she is absolutely stunning up close. She catches me looking--because I want her to--and scoffs. 

I’m never exactly discreet with my appreciation of my mate. Even when I’m not being an asshole. “To warn you,” I say. 

“Too late.” She rolls her eyes. 

For what? I have no idea, and let curiosity play across my face. 

Her chest rises with a not-so-subtle intake of breath. Her heart beats a little faster and her excitement hits me square in the pants. She likes knowing something that I don’t, so it is with great pleasure, that she leans in, her nose a mere inch from my own, to tell me so. “You’re already here.” 

I bite back the observation that her desire for emphasis only serves to reveal her need for me. I give a sardonic laugh, to show a lack of amusement. I am supposed to be warning her, after all. “You’re getting in over your head.”

She pauses, considering my words. Surprisingly. Then she glances away, fighting whatever part of herself that would actually pay heed to my warning. “I know what I’m doing.” 

“I’m not sure that you do,” I admit with a bit more edge to my voice than I meant. 

Her eyes flash to mine, picking up on my anxiety. “Is that concern I hear?” Her lips press into a pout as she baits, “What’s got the devil shaking in his boots?” 

I should be annoyed by such taunting, but it has the opposite effect because at least she cares enough to bother. “Perhaps it’s the thought of bodily harm coming to my mate,” I say. And for the record, it’s not a ‘perhaps,’ it’s a definite. Any pain she suffers--even the slightest of slivers--is unacceptable. I know that truth is too much for her to accept, so I make it a point to wet my bottom lip and glance down at her breasts. I am willing to cheapen the moment between us, if it’s the only way she will allow a moment at all. Besides, if she’s going to put them on display, then I don’t mind helping myself to a good leer. “She happens to have quite the delectable form,” I say as if I’m talking about someone else. “I’d hate to see it damaged.” 

_ Or dead before I can claim it _ , I keep to myself because things are supposed to be effortless between us and they are anything but. 

“I’m sure if things go sideways, you’ll show up to give me a strong  _ ‘I told ya so.’ _ ”

No. I would ‘show up’ to save that plump, delectable ass. “And what good would that do?” 

“You’re not in the business of good,” she quips and I can tell she had to reach for that one. I don’t say as much as she adds, “You would do it for the sheer satisfaction of being right.”

“I can think of much more satisfying things,” I say, batting the ball back into her court. 

Which, of course, she lets drop and bounce away--rather disappointingly. “Ah, yes. How could I forget? Your mission to pry my legs apart.” 

She sounds like she hasn’t slept. She gets headaches when she’s stressed, and it makes sleep impossible. Her mother used to rub the back of her neck, but I find gentle circles around her temples are more effective…or, at least, I did. Back when she would let me help her--when the only side of myself I had revealed was Sam. 

“That’s not what I need from you,” I tell her, wishing I could soothe the ache right now. 

Hers and mine. 

I didn’t lie to her. Mostly. While sex with my mate is the only sex I truly desire, it’s not necessary. For now. I need her acceptance, and my love returned. I crave  _ intimacy _ . Call me a romantic, but shower someone in love and then deprive them of it, and I guarantee you, seeking it becomes their charge. 

Her gaze flicks around me and she scoffs. “I guess I believe that.” I don’t get the chance to feel anything good about her acceptance, because she is quick to explain, “You always do have an endless supply of pussy draped around you.”

It’s then that I remember the small herd of mortal women surrounding me. They are nothing more than scenery, and she should know that by now. It’s actually pretty fucking offensive that she doesn’t. I step forward, willing the crowd even further back behind me and out of mind--again, if not entirely out of sight. “If you think a filthy mouth is a turn off…” I trail off, letting her mind fill in the blanks. Okay, so I’m lashing out. I never claimed to be perfect and a little discomfort never hurt anyone. Besides, she brought it to here. 

She closes her eyes and sucks in a breath. “Are we done yet, Lucifer?” 

Her use of my name has all my hair standing on end. She hardly ever does that. It’s always Devil, Satan, Damned, and in some rare circumstances,  _ God’s FuckUp. _

She’s upset. Really and truly. 

Common sense says she’s touchy because she’s nervous, playing around on the wrong side of the law. Though, our history together is still the more likely reason. Still, raw need and emotion teases me into wondering if perhaps she’s jealous--even if she won’t let herself see it.

There had been a time that I would have relished such an emotion from her. I disguised myself as her randy neighbor in order to watch her better from out of the shadows. Her body was developing and her thoughts were diverging away from innocence. I invited many women back to the house that sat beside her childhood home, to live up to the illusion of a playboy next door. I just wanted to give her an idea of the pleasure to be had, once she was ready. 

_ Bullshit. _

I still at the one-word thought that is clearly not my own--even if it was one I have had plenty more times than I ever wanted to admit. 

_ You were grooming me. But it didn’t work, because newsflash asshole: fucking all those women with me right next door was hardly a turn on.  _

I jerk out of my own head, shooting my gaze to hers. Her pupils constrict in the hyperfocus that only true panic can bring. I reach out to stop her, hold her, trap her--whatever it takes. She freezes, caught in my clutches. 

“Since when?” I ask because I’m drumbstruck and suddenly lack finesse. 

“Since when, what?”

Is she playing dumb? Her bewildered expression says otherwise. The questions are pretty obvious: Since when can you read my mind? Since when can you impose yourself into it? Since when have you thought of me as more contemptuous than my mistakes?

If she was going to accuse me of priming the conditions for us to join, then I wouldn’t deny it.  _ You are right. A load of good it did me in the end, _ I thought--rather purposefully--in reply. 

“What are you talking about?” She asked again.

I can’t be certain if she’s responding to the question I asked aloud, or the ones that I didn’t. My eyes hold hers as I think,  _ There is nothing I wouldn’t do for you. _

She doesn’t scoff, or swallow back her venom. She doesn’t give any indication that she heard me. “Nevermind, I don’t care anyway.” She shakes her head and turns away. She’s out of my head just as quickly as she was in it, and she doesn’t even know it. 

“Wait,” I call out. 

She ignores me, but I won’t let her. Not this time. Not after what we just shared. I use my speed to get in front of her and block her way. 

Before I open my mouth, she huffs. “Stalking isn’t sexy.” 

I don’t appreciate what she’s implying. “I’m much more romantic than that, and you know it.” I clench my jaw and force her to share the memories of our time together. Images flow into her head of us dancing the night away in my ballroom, her hand in mine as I walked her to every single one of her classes, and the moonlight against our faces as we laid in the grass and told each other  _ almost  _ everything.

There is a sharp intake of breath before she shakes off the shock of such a barrage and curls her lip at me. “Knowing how I take my coffee isn’t going to melt my panties off.”

“No, but knowing how you prefer your cereal, had your tits standing at attention.” I regret it even while I am saying it. Only my mate could make me lose my senses so easily. Once again, our true feelings are masked by petty bickering through a simple lust-soaked lens. I hate myself for always taking the easy way out. 

“You used to be sweeter.”

I doubt she meant to say it aloud--too vulnerable a statement to make. “You weren’t as bitter,” I reply, to let her know that I heard her, and to remind her that for as many mistakes as I have made, she plays an equal part in all things us. 

Her lips press into a thin line, her eyes narrowing. She says nothing, letting the silence that stretches between us serve answer enough. 

“You are putting yourself in danger and I can’t sit idly by while you do,” I finally say. Screw her silence, and fuck her rejection. So she’s hurting--aren’t we all? I may have to wait for her, but that does not mean that I must do so patiently. I am done with her distractions. 

_ Idle hands… _ , tickles my ears and I pretend I don’t hear her mocking, though it thrills me that she now has the ability to connect with me this way. She parts her lips, and just when I am certain she will say her thought aloud, instead, she asks, “Is that a threat?”

I blink, breaking my gaze from hers. “More like a vow,” I admit.

I know her thoughts go to commitment even though she won’t let me in to see, because she rubs the pad of her thumbs over the insides of her fingers, looking for a ring that’s not there. She wants one, because she’s been raised to admire such a human convention. Unfortunately, she would never admit to it, knowing no one else can offer it to her but me, because we are fated, and because I will kill any man that ever tries. 

It’s clear that she is choosing her words wisely as she says, “Do you want to know what the hardest thing about knowing you exist is?”

It’s a rhetorical question, so don’t bother with an answer. 

Her hand is on her hip, jutted out as she tosses me a little attitude. “Aside from the fact that you murdered my parents, of course.”

She’s trying to hurt me. As per usual.

“ _ Of course _ ,” I whisper back, because she always succeeds. 

I try--rather poorly--not to let her see just how riled she has me. Because this feels real. This feels like a moment she wouldn’t share with me if she wasn’t in just the right mood, caught at just the right time.

Her features harden and I know that just the sound of my voice alone was enough to piss her off even more. But, she is not deterred. Whatever’s possessed her to share this, is working in my favor, because she is staying the course. 

“It’s knowing that my entire life has just been one big,” her voice begins soft and melodic until it suddenly isn’t, “ _ fucking head game. _ ” 

Great. Now she resents all of the good times too. 

“Nothing is real with you. It never was,” she pauses to swallow. Whether she thinks twice about it or not, she follows through and grinds her heel into any prospect of a future between us. “And it never will be.” 

All the air leaves my lungs and my mouth dries. Only her. Only my soulmate has the power to destroy me like she does. Lights flash and machines go off around us. Fat greedy men placing their bets and desperate women squealing with joy, do little to fill the chasm between us. She holds my gaze as the hardest words I’ve ever heard echo in my brain, _ I’m over you. _

Lie. 

Untruth.

Deceit.

_ Please _ .

This rejection cut deeper because it’s a thought in her own head, bled over into mine. So much more powerful than hurtful words spewed in anger. I step back, recoiling. We speak lies, but do we think them? Never before have I needed to be deceived, like I do now. 

“Leave me alone, Lucifer. I can take care of myself.” 

No. No, I don’t think she can. And even if she can, I don’t want her to. She’s mine.

I’m slow to recover as she storms off, snapping my fingers to escape my ‘endless supply’ as they take her absence as an opportunity to swarm. 

I stand back in my chamber, completely alone, the hurt I feel reminiscent of the pain I felt the very first night I spent in the darkness of a barren Hell. 

Pouring myself a drink, I glance up at myself in the mirror. I stop and stare into my own eyes--her eyes, and promise myself that ‘over’ isn’t done. It’s just the option to begin again. For my soulmate, I will start over as many times as she requires. 


End file.
